I've been back in Canada for about 4 days now. The snow and temperature are quick ways of adapting and telling me that I am somewhere else. The cold and smoke seep through my coat. I try to get out there and just breath it in.
Now I am sitting in a coffee shop typing away at a computer, which is surely to be considered a very North American thing to do. Hey, I'm just trying to ease myself into this culture again. Back off!
Next to me is the door. It's cold outside, so there's two of them. Both of them have one of those buttons with the wheelchairs on them. The people who are in wheelchairs, with walkers, canes, or just plain lazy, can push those buttons to enter.
A moment ago, two elderly ladies came to the door. They both had their own walkers, and I watched as the first lady struggled to reach out and touch the magic button that allows them to enter. I watched while they did this, tossing around the idea of getting up and actually holding the door for them. Why did I need to get up? There's a button there for them. They made their way in, and I returned to typing.
If no one's around, then the button is there for them. Yet, the button is not only there for them when others are not. The button is there so that we can continue to distance ourselves from each other. You don't look at me, I won't look at you. You need help? Well, I didn't notice, plus there is a button that is supposed to help you, so don't expect me to do anything anyways.
And in this world, this world of people, we have buttons. Buttons for those unable to enter doors to push, so that electricity can help them out, can be a gentleman for them. Here I am, near the door, watching two old ladies struggle to come inside for a coffee, and my instincts are already telling me that to help them is someone else's job.
Lord heal me.