I've had kind of a bad week. You know, soul-searching. Whining. Feeling sorry for myself. Whatever you want to call it.
So tonight, my husband and I were standing outside of our house, and we hear some chaos going on right down the street. It looked like two people were dragging something out of a car. And then they peel off. Now, to me, it looked like it might have been a person....it was dark, and we couldn't actually see. So I go running over there. And sure enough, it was a man, face down on the ground.
I rubbed his back, and he moved a little.
"Are you okay?" I ask, relieved he wasn't dead. He starts crying. He is obviously very drunk. And young. Probably not more that 25 years old.
I didn't really know what to do. I yell for Steve, who isn't coming over to help. So I try asking him if he lives around here. He is making no sense, but I finally gather that he's not from around here. And then starts staggering down the road, crying. He's not even wearing a coat.
I run back to my house, and tell Steve what's going on. He says I should call the police and let them deal with it.
Now, maybe I should have. I really didn't want to, because the guy has already been having a really bad night. I finally convince Steve, who now thinks I am a complete whack job, that we should offer him a ride home.
We get in the car and catch up to him. He is just a little farther up the road, walking around in circles and crying. I talk him into letting us take him home.
He ends up living about 40 minutes away, and it took awhile to get him to tell us where exactly he lived, but we eventually got him home, and I felt better.
Right now I am feeling three things.
The first is relief. I would have been worried about that kid for the rest of my life had we not helped him get home. The second is sadness. Because people don't just help other people anymore...you could actually tell this guy was kind of suspicious of us, and didn't even know if he should trust us to take him home.
And the third is the realization that maybe I don't need to do anything big and shiny to make a difference in this world.
I've been struggling with that a little. Being too hard on myself. Feeling kind of useless.
But because I'm me (even though my husband thinks I'm crazy) somebody's son, brother, nephew or whoever this young man is to the people who love him, got home safely tonight. And if that is the only important thing I ever do with my life, I'm okay with that.