The soft sounds of the trombone lulled the station into a drunken Christmas mood. I reflected for a quick second, confused about why things were the way they were. What were we doing wrong?
I dropped a one dollar bill in his case, grateful for his spirit and mellow tones.
He stopped playing and thanked me. "You're welcome." I said. I felt empty wishing I could've offered more. Wishing that gratitude could be extended and seen through eyes that weren't my own. Wishing that perspective was something other people could take a few moments to understand. Wishing that tolerance was the default for humanity.
As the train approached he quickly changed his tune to hi ho, and I was off. Back to the "grind" wishing my mind could be numbed with trombone Christmas carols for just a little longer.