So, I’m not strictly following the Make It OK Calendar per day for May Mental Health Awareness Month, at least according to the Iowa Healthiest State Initiative. Sometimes the goals on the calendar may not feel natural on a particular day or the opportunity might not appear.
Today, I’m a few days late on the Smile at a Stranger prompt and I figure better late than never. I was out for a walk to Clear Creek, testing out my other pair of new shoes (they’re black which is the only difference).
I didn’t encounter anyone on the way there, but I did see the geese pair I saw yesterday. I think this is the same pair I’ve seen over the years and they always return to about the same area by the creek where I suspect they nest. They honked raucously as they always do as they flew in from the north before landing on the water. The female walks up the shore a few steps and just stands there while the male floats in the creek close by, protectively. I never get to see exactly where the female enters the tall grass to start building a nest. I wonder if it’s because they both sense some nosy person like me is watching them.
Anyway, on my way back I smiled and greeted 3 people who were strangers to me. One was an old guy like me, out for a walk. We smiled and said hi to each other.
The other two were special. There was a kid on a tricycle, coming in hot down the hill straight for me. There was a big guy I figured was his dad bringing up the rear behind him, murmuring words of warning about the obvious risk of so much hi octane tricycle speed down a hill.
The kid was hurtling down so fast that I thought “Am I going to have to catch him?” It reminds me of an old song written and sung by Bill Withers in 1971, “Grandma’s Hands.” The relevant lyrics:
“Used to issue out a warning
She’d say, Billy don’t you run so fast
Might fall on a piece of glass
Might be snakes there in that grass…”
Then the kid put out both feet and made a long sliding stop just a few yards short of me—and grinned wide.
I grinned back and called out, “Hey, rocket man!” He waved and said “Hi!” And so did his dad, who smiled wide. I said “How you doin’?” and he replied “fine! How are you?” I said “I’m good” or something like that.
Smiles can work that way sometimes.
Go Retire Psychiatrist 