Jessica Schein

I spent a lot of time wallowing in my own sorrow today. In addition to the fact that I’m currently struggling with insomnia, I experienced yet more writerly rejection, learned that three running races I wanted to enter this year are already full, stepped in a deceptively deep puddle that resulted in my shoe flooding with slush, and struggled up three slippery hills home. In the rain.

Today was not my finest Friday.

I was all set to accept defeat and proclaim the day ruined until I passed a blind man trying to walk on the icy street. I mean, what the hell is scarier than not being able to see where you’re going on an extremely slick surface? Not only that, for all his current troubles this man hadn’t even gotten to enjoy watching yesterday’s beautiful snowfall.

I asked him if he needed help and he graciously declined, telling me he would prefer to get home on his own. Although it was a quick exchange it was long enough for me to be struck by his strength—a virtue, I realized, I was lacking. Because, really, apart from a couple of minor grievances nothing is truly wrong. What was I so distressed about all day? I even had a few movies and a homemade pizza courtesy of my wonderful boyfriend to look forward to.

Enough, Jess, enough, I thought.

As we parted ways I told the man to have a good evening and he wished me the same.

And now here I sit, a glass of red wine in hand, doing just that: enjoying my night.

I hope he is, too.