Trinity Trail Fort Worth, TX
I’m riding on the Trinity Trail (Fort Worth, TX). It’s early morning. I notice this guy bird. Probably looking for breakfast, if a bird can differentiate meals. I stop and take his pic. I know it’s a guy bird because he is alone. OK. OK. That is not fair. But…
Looks a bit lonely to me, if, in fact, a bird can be lonely.
I see a lot of people walking and riding the Trinity Trail. Seems as busy as I-30 at times. The trail contains both nature and parallel concrete surfaces. Goes for miles. Very urban.
I see causal riders and serious ones. Same goes for walkers, joggers, and runners. I see both old and young. Lots of young people walking their dogs, looking fit and fine. I wonder if their inner lives are as well-kept as their outer.
I wonder if people are as lonely as they sometimes appear. I wonder if I appear lonely to them.
I notice that most…most…do not interact with another person. They just go about their business. Ah, but occasionally, there is that one person who beats me to the smile and “Hey!” I like that, so I coach myself to be that person who simply acknowledges the other person…first. Some don’t respond to my gesture. Some do.
I like to acknowledge the older folk who are giving it their all. I like to acknowledge the dad or mom pushing the stroller containing a crying child. I tip my helmet to the oncoming rider. I pay attention to those behind me.
I see how large, yet small this world can be…not just feel…but can be. I wonder what is in the mind and hearts of those I pass or those who pass me, which is not often. Are they OK? Do they have purpose and meaning? Do they have hope? Does anyone care?
Yes, at times, I am lonely on the trail. Even amid so many, connections seem distant. No doubt like other people at that moment, I am processing life within a moment of fitness.
I pass an old Hispanic man. I look back. He’s got a flat. I ride a bit further. Nope. I got to turn around and go back.
For the next 20 minutes he and I overcome our language barrier. Using troublesome tools and an old beat-up foot pump, we fix the flat, together.
He says, “Thank you, Amigo.”
We connect! And that fuels up my lonely heart. I hope he feels noticed.
Two days later I see him on the trail. I wave. He waves.
I am thankful. And a bit less lonely bird.
◊ Amigo is the Spanish word for “friend.”