Today, south bound on Point Lookout Road, just prior to the Newtowne Neck light, I ended up one lane over and two car lengths behind an open Amish buggy. One of the two boys in the back lost his hat in the busy road. For those that are unfamiliar, this stretch of road is two lanes both ways with no shoulder, it either has a wave of traffic, or no one on it, every 20 seconds. I watched as the straw cap rested on the white broken line, and the mother turned around to see it. I wondered if the boy had interjected at all, having never heard a complaint, or in fact a sound from an Amish child in my life, I couldn't imagine him doing much more than frowning. I watched one car speed past me, barely missing the cap. I, with my own precious furry cargo, circled back to the light, and around the intersection looking for a break in traffic and contemplating whether a safe stop and grab was feasible. I got to a turn-around point, a break in traffic, and just as I approached, an older gentleman in a black Takoma had beat me to it. I saw him bring the small hat into his driver's door, and followed him as he made his way to where he assumed the buggy must be by then. The black truck came to a gentle stop with his blinkers on a little way in front of where the buggy was now able to use the shoulder. The father slowed his carriage but I could see the uncertainty in his face as I passed, until the man stepped out with the hat in hand. I saw the father smile that half-chuckle smile. I didn't get to see the exchange, I had to get over before I actually made it to the next town, but I'd seen enough to brighten my day. My faith in humanity isn't exactly 'restored', but it's a little gift each time you encounter others with your heart. That officer who stops traffic for ducks, the car in front of you who gets out of their car for that stray dog, the old man who retrieves the Amish boy's hat, even though they'll all go home, say one prayer for him and remind each other what terrible a sinner he probably is.
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