Yesterday, I took the train to work, and on my way there, my handbag was not zipped up and spilled out onto the train's floor. Pantyliners, gum, hairspray, lipstick, and hand cream littered the gross rubbery floor. "Oh, God!" I shouted, embarrassed. A barrage of friendly strangers proceeded to help me pick up pieces of my daily life. "Thank you, thank you," was on the turntable. It was strange because I felt like mere thank yous weren't enough. This kind act by people who I don't know from Adam overwhelmed me. If one of them had asked for a kidney at that moment, I might have considered it. Seriously.
When I got to work, I thought about how people seem to be much nicer to strangers than to the people we know and love. I know the whole pay it forward thing is an ideal way to lead your life, but it should also apply to our loved ones. We don't pay it forward enough to the people who count. I don't do it enough.
So on my way home, I gave up my seat to a woman and her four-pound handbag. I paid it forward. And now I'm going home to take Viv and Jan out to dinner.
I guess you can say, I'm paying it forward and backwards.