To the Spanish gentleman who rode the train with us from Madrid to Toledo on March 7th:
You did not have to stay in your seat when you discovered that the occupant of the next one was a very talkative small American boy. You could have switched with me, or moved down the car to an empty row, or just put on your headphones and pretended to be listening to music. There were lots of options.
Instead, you shook his little hand and introduced yourself—I’m pretty sure you said your name was Fran—and then patiently engaged him in conversation. You listened while he told you about himself, his school, his siblings, his house, and all the other things that are important to him. You answered all of his endless questions about where you live, where you grew up, your siblings, and your job.
You explained to him what a “graphic designer” does, and then pulled out your laptop and showed him a project you were working on for a client, so he would understand. When he made suggestions about what color he thought something should be, or what shapes would work better, you even took him seriously, or at least faked it enough so that he felt heard and respected.
For over an hour you humored my little boy, who because of COVID was speech delayed until pretty recently. Right at the time he should have been learning to speak and read facial expressions and socialize, we all locked ourselves in our homes for a couple of years. His mom and I tried to do what we could at home, but there’s no substitute for the real thing, and it affected him.
It’s been a relief, like something heavy being lifted off my chest, to watch him finally catch up, now that we are allowed to see and speak with each other again. Sometimes it’s hard for him to work up the courage to converse with people he doesn’t know well.
You also did the entire conversation not only in English, but in simple enough English that he understood you perfectly. And you were patient and thoughtful enough to ask him to repeat himself when he would occasionally mispronounce things.
He spent the rest of the day telling our family, and the other family traveling with us, all about his “good friend Fran, from the train.” He was very excited to tell us all about you, and how he “helped” you with your work.
I was so proud of him that day. You made that possible, Fran. Thank you for treating him like a person and making him a bit more confident and outgoing. Thank you for taking the time when you didn’t have to. Thank you for understanding when I would occasionally lean back from my own seat to check on him.
I know I shook your hand and thanked you, but by the time I got my entire traveling circus off the train and made sure everyone had their luggage, you were gone before I could ask your full name. If I knew it, I wouldn’t blast it out here, but I would have tracked you down and thanked you again. I’m so grateful to you for that small act of kindness at a time when maybe you just wanted a peaceful, quiet train ride. It means so much to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t thank you more.
Thank you, Fran, wherever you are. So much. You’re a good man. Muchísimas gracias, amigo.
Aw. The Beauty of Humanity still exists in the world. And is seen in the little things.