One never knows where one will find it.
I was reading the paper, trying to decide which article I could stomach, when a rich glorious voice emerged from behind me, singing Nat King Cole’s Unforgettable.
A tall man of a certain age walked forward, serenading his subway riders, as I reached into my change purse and produced two sad dollars.
“Thank you so much,” the man responded, as I handed him the folded-up bills.
“This simply is not enough,” I answered, “for a voice as glorious as yours.”
The man described his conversation with God this morning and his struggle to get up and leave the house.
“But you came out and shared your gift with us,” I said.
The singer, another passenger, and I looked at each other, clearly grateful that we could all encounter joy for a moment on the Q train.
I was reminded of the epigraph from E.M. Forster’s Howards End: “Only connect!”