The sweat intermingled
with the hair on his neck
that joined with the hair
on his back and continued down
past the collar of his t-shirt.
He held the door for me
as I followed him
through the winding hallways
of the gym at our local YMCA.
We journeyed single-file
through hallways and doors.
Door after door
he handed off to me
like an endless stream of batons
in a relay race
of dad-shaped men
lost in the murmurs of our earbuds.
Each time he handed me an open door
I said, thank you
and after the fourth or fifth one,
it made me think…
Why do we thank
people we’re walking right behind
who hold doors open for us?
It would’ve been more work
for the hairy-back/necked man
to actively slam the door in my face.
Keeping it open for me
proved no extra effort
for me to be thankful for.
It brings to mind cars
that stop for us at crosswalks
(especially when they have a stop sign).
We have a lot to be thankful for,
and for all of those things, I’m grateful…
But why them?
Why do we thank them?
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This post was previously published on Medium.com and is republished here with permission from the author.
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Photo credit: istockphoto.com