People Watching

On the train into the city yesterday, I realized that I have become quite the people watcher. Right off the bat like that, that statement does have a stalker-ish ring to it, but I do not mean staring people down in an intimidating and frightful way. Instead, I really find myself fascinated with just watching people. It astonishes me how different people are. In the same country, in the same city, on the same train car, there were a myriad of different people, all looking like they were off to do very different things with their evening. I find myself occasionally trying to work out these unknown faces' life stories in my mind as I sit a few feet away from them or watch them walk by. I have a wonderful image of an older woman sitting knitting what looks like it might one day become a jumper, and I can imagine her hurrying off the train, eager to get home to a nice hot cup of tea and a distinguished little husband in herringbone slacks who sits, reading, waiting for her. It tickles me to no end when this same older woman turns to the surly looking teenager seated next to her with a pursed expression on his face and his head bopping to the music playing in his earphones. She leans into him a bit and starts brushing some lint off his shoulder. I would not have guessed for all the world that they were any more closely acquainted than that they happened to be sharing the same seat together. People surprise you, and I like that. People offer so much, continually keeping me on my toes, forbidding me from lethargic complacency and amusing me when they turn out to be quite different than you think they are.
And so, I think that, thus acknowledged, I will continue with this delicate little people watching habit of mine. It certainly makes train rides pass more quickly.