Meandering Thoughts

Having recently acquired my learners permit, I was driving myself and my mother, who was in the middle of one of her team “meetings” for work, to the Walmart close by; who knew their buttermilk chess pie was so addictive, especially during the chilly Christmas-time weather. The merry mood of the holidays, however, did not seem as infectious as it did last year or the year before “I guess I’m just growing up.” I would say to myself. Nonetheless, I turned left into the parking lot. Finding it rather unnaturally filled, I drove past occupied reserved handicap lots, surprisingly coming across an open spot right after the reserved ones. Yet, despite my mother’s silent protests, I drove past it; partially because I wanted to take a walk in the chilly weather and maybe, ever so slightly because, well, I forgot to turn, not expecting to find one so quickly. 

Passing a few more parked cars, I finally found a space to stop. Maneuvering the heavy machinery (driving still intimidates me) to what I hoped fit perfectly between the lines, I exited the car alone after my mother, who, while still frustrated that I had skipped the closer spot, decided to stay in the car, choosing warmth over the chilly walk.

I then walked, at a leisurely pace, towards the store, looking up at the clear, moon-lit night sky, catching sight of the plentiful planes flying from (I presumed) DFW Airport and the twinkling lights that moved along with them. “It’s been ages since I’ve looked up,” I thought, “Almost as though I forgot …” This led me to look for the natural twinklers, the bright spots of light peppered in the dark sky that I recalled from my younger years in Virginia and the outskirts of Chennai. To my surprise, I could not find many; any bright light I spotted was a stray plane either departing from or setting to touch down in the airport. In a further effort, moving to the side of the road, I closed my eyes for a good 15 seconds, hoping to dilate my pupil enough to see the softer lights. 

Then I found it, a solitary, dim but constant light, fixed in place as opposed to the moving aircrafts. Uncontrollably, I let out a mirthless laugh filled with the sorrow of the inability to see more of these luminous spheres and a personal chiding for forgetting to look up in a long time. It was a silent realization; I had obviously heard of and learnt of light pollution and its effects in school. Why, then, does the sorrow hit me now? I looked around myself, wondering if the people around me ever realized the brilliance of the night sky if it was untouched by urban lights. 

I picked myself up, momentarily closed my eyes, and continued walking, at a brisk pace this time, however; “I had work to do and places to be” I thought to myself. Just as I was trying to figure out my bizarre reaction during the moments prior, I saw a car now occupy the open spot I had missed. I did not pay it too much heed and continued walking.

It was only when I drew closer to the car that I saw a young couple get down from the front and try to help an old man in clutches get out of the car. “It was fortunate that we got a spot so close, or else we would have needed to walk him from the very back,” they said, in Telugu, relief apparent in their voices. 

Hearing their words, I felt a quiet sense of understanding wash over me. That close parking spot I had so carelessly dismissed earlier had found its purpose. What I perceived as an oversight on my part had turned into a convenience for someone who truly needed it. It was a small, unknowing act of kindness that went unappreciated and unnoticed, yet it proved essential to real people. It wasn't about recognition. It was about impact, however invisible it may be

As I entered the store, the bustling energy of shoppers and the warm glow of holiday decorations enveloped me, yet my mind remained on the couple and the old man. How often do we underestimate the power of small gestures; anonymous decisions made without fanfare that ripple outwards in ways we may often never comprehend. To the world at large, it felt significant, where countless acts of compassion and understanding prove to be the building blocks of something large, be it a local orphanage, or an international effort to mitigate a crisis.

When I returned to the car, my mother was still deep in her meeting, the faint hum of her colleagues’ voices spilling out from the speakers. I took a moment to sit silently in the driver’s seat, gazing upward once more at the night sky. The lonely star I had spotted earlier still shone, but this time it seemed brighter. I found it wasn’t the star that shone brighter, but the power of doing good things without expecting acknowledgement, like the star that shone above, being persistent in a faced paced world.

With a deep breath, I turned the key in the ignition, ready to drive us home. Somewhere in the chilly December night, the star still shone, constant and unwavering, as if to say: “Look up again.” And I resolved myself to always do, not just for the solitary orb, but for any meaningful gestures I can do, however insignificant I may believe them to be, for they are the unnoticed lights that brighten the lives of individuals in ways that truly matter.