I was riding my bicycle home from the gym when I saw a kid squatting in front of a BMX lying on its side in the middle of the asphalt path. Uh-oh, I thought, something broken or someone hurt. I pulled alongside and asked if everything was okay and the full picture developed: a girl, maybe twelve years old, was loading her backpack with pears. She was chatty and articulate: this trail-side pear tree’s owner was just letting the pears fall to the ground and rot. She’d been keeping an eye on things and decided to act: “I mean, if they aren’t going to, I’ll make something with them. I found a pear tart recipe I’ll make with these.”
I laid my bike down next to hers and said, “What a great idea. I think I’ll follow your example.” I gathered five pears into my backpack and then noticed she was struggling to fit hers in her pack, unable to close the zipper. I crouched next to her, pulled the two sides together and told her to work the zipper. Voila! Then I said she could probably fit two more in the side pouches, and she smiled conspiratorially and went back to the tree. I watched her shoulder the heavy pack, and then right and straddle her bike. Before we went opposite directions, I said, “I just want you to know you made my day. Keep being your fantastic self.” She flashed her amazing smile again and waved goodbye. I watched for a minute as the bike wobbled and then finally, she hit her stride. I bet the tart was delicious.
And I meant what I said to her. Yes, the encounter was a little fraught, given modern times—it’s a big city, I’m an old dude and she’s a child, stranger danger, and all that—but this was pure goodness: a young person foraging pears, paying attention and watching and then planning this baked treat, listening to what she had to say about making sure things don’t go to waste, I was just so heartened and delighted by her. I’m inspired by this random encounter. A bit of trail magic of a certain kind, as the thru hikers like to say.
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