The Train Station

The Train Station

Overcoming ones fears

By Kathleen Boucher

Her head hurt.

Crowds always made her nervous. She picked up on their energy, their individual hopes and fears, triumphs and defeats.

The train station was alive with students, travelers, young and old, looking haggard and rushed. Vivid winter coats flashed by as swarms of people flowed toward their destination. Multi-colored mittens trailed behind toddlers’ sleeves, secured by crocheted woolen strings. Their hands held tightly as their parents pulled them along, short little legs working frantically to keep up the pace. A childhood memory surfaced.

She sighed and wondered if she would ever stop feeling overwhelmed by people.

Her train did not depart for another hour. Feeling restless, she decided that it was time to get up and buy a coffee. As she approached the café, she noticed an elderly gentleman with white hair, wearing a navy-blue wool coat buttoned to the top, sitting on a bench. A bright-red scarf lay loosely around his neck.

He was rocking back and forth, moaning.

She hesitated. Indecision gripped her. Should she help him? Her feet were shopworn. Time stood still. All she could do was focus on the scene before her. The crowd melted away. Finally, compassion and curiosity prevailed. What harm could come from helping an old man? she thought.

As she approached the aged man, she said, “Excuse me, sir? May I help you?”

Gray eyes, clouded by cataracts, lifted toward the sound of her voice and seemed to look straight through her. He nodded.

“Why are you moaning?” she asked.

“It’s gone.” he exclaimed. Despair emanated from him in waves.

Holding her forehead, she felt swamped by his distress. Pushing the feeling back, she centered her mind. Someday soon, she promised herself, she would stop saving stray cats and dogs and old men sitting on benches in train stations. The coffee forgotten, she asked permission to sit beside him. “Yes, of course.” he replied.

“What’s gone?” she asked.

“My little black book.” he answered.

“Try taking a few deep breaths to help you calm down and clear your mind,” she said. She pulled a ruffled tissue from her pocket. “Use this.” She placed the wrinkled tissue in his hand and added, “Don’t worry, it’s clean.”

“Thank you. Sorry to be a bother,” he replied, dabbing at his eyes.

“No problem,” she said. “When was the last time you had your little black book?”

“I had it with me when I left the house and took a taxi to the train station,” he replied.

“What did you do between the time you got in the taxi and the time you entered the train station?” she asked.

“I never took it out of my breast coat pocket in the taxi or when I was escorted to this very spot.”

She wondered why he needed an escort. “Are you sure you didn’t buy a coffee?” she asked, thinking that she still wanted one.

The elderly gentleman chuckled. “I’m hardly in a position to buy myself a cup of coffee,” he said.

“Why not? she asked.

“Because I’m blind, my dear.”

“Blind?!”

It was only then that she noticed a white cane under the bench seat. Surprised by her lack of observation, she imagined how difficult it must be to be blind. Why wasn’t someone with him? Trying hard to not sound stunned, she asked, “Have you checked your breast pocket in the last few minutes?”

“Young lady, I may be blind and old, but I assure you that I’ve checked my pocket numerous times.”

“It’s just that I remember my dad kept misplacing his keys. It turned out that he had a hole in his pocket and the keys ended up at the bottom of his coat. He found them in the lining. Why don’t we check the lining of your coat?”

“Be my guest,” he said, handing her the left-front corner of his coat.

Touching the inside edge of the coat, she exclaimed, “I don’t believe it! There’s a small rectangular object in the lining. Here, feel it.” She took his left hand and guided it to the shape in the lining. His hand felt warm and oddly comforting.

“Incredible. I do believe you might have found my little black book.” He slowly inched the small item toward his breast pocket. In the pocket, he discovered a tear that had previously gone unnoticed. He pulled the little black book through the ripped fabric. As he opened the book in his hands, she realized that it was completely in braille.

The man turned to her, smiling, and years seemed to have suddenly shed off of his face. “My dear, I have a surprise for you! Many people passed me by over the last hour. You are the only person who stopped and helped me. This was an experiment in human kindness. A wealthy philanthropist wants to award twenty thousand dollars to someone who has helped an elderly person in need. You are the winner of twenty thousand dollars!”

The girl started to cry, her heart filling with joy.