What happened on this morning's walk . . .

This morning when it was still cool, and fairly dark, I went for a walk. Along the way I passed several people, each of whom I told "Good morning". Some of them responded verbally, some nodded silently, some didn't look up or respond at all, but most couldn't even hear me. Their ears were stuffed with headphones, blocking out the world. Only those who looked up at me as I passed were able to lip read the greeting and respond with a glaze-eyed nod.

Further along, as I walked through campus, I saw a pale, chubby young man sitting on a bench by the lockers near the library. He was hunched over, biting into a sandwich. As I passed, I said "Good morning." He looked up and said "Good morning."

At that moment, I heard something in me say "Have a successful day". I didn't consciously think those words, yet it was my own voice saying them to the young man. My momentum kept me walking forward, but I felt an irresistible pull to go back to him.

When he saw that I had turned back and was heading straight in his direction, he stopped chewing and looked momentarily scared. I suppose in this day and age . . . quiet young man alone on an empty campus, early morning, strange woman turns and heads directly for him. What weapon does she have tucked in her track pants?

He dropped his defenses when I smiled and spoke. "I came back to tell you that I hope you have a successful day."

Immediately his presence changed. He straightened up, burst into a massive smile and said "Thank you!" I saw and felt him glowing brightly. The hunched man furtively biting into his breakfast was gone.

"Is there something important about today for you?" I asked him.

He thought for a while: "No. Today isn't really important."

"Well, it is," I said. "Every day is."

"True," he said.

We smiled and parted.