Up With People
(in which small acts of kindness are revealed to be Everything.)

Today: flew from Madison to Atlanta, drove from Atlanta to Beachtown. Phew.

This morning at a parking garage where I’d stored my car in Atlanta, I almost cried. Backing up: Exiting the train, I walked around and around lugging my suitcase and satchel and laptop, unable to remember where the hell the entrance to the garage was. Then when I found it and found my car, I—seriously—couldn’t figure out how to get down to the ground floor. I circled and circled and kept ending up back at my same parking spot like those people who can’t escape the haunted house in that movie Legacy.

When I finally escaped Floor Three, it turned out that the attendant couldn’t accept my credit card to pay the thirty bucks. He told me I had to find an ATM; he wasn’t sure where one was. He seemed really sorry. I parked my car again and then, as I walked by the booth on the way out, the attendant waved me down.
“Look, how much money do you have?”
“Five dollars.”
“Just.” He looked around. “Give me that. That’s fine. You look like you’ve had a long day.”
Then when I drove by in my car, he wouldn’t even take my five.
Oh, sweet, sweet man of the parking garage. You have no idea. You have no idea and thank you.

Then, when I collected the rest of my stuff from the writing conference from Marshall’s house where I’d left it, I found three cds he’d burned for me. And I did burst into tears.


"Save me/drape me in weakness/tell me I don’t have to choose this/tell me it’s okay to lose”
-Diane Cluck sings on my stereo right this moment