Little Things

I’ve been noticing little things, lately. On the train today, upon close examination of the metal door, I found tiny scratches all along the side. Of course there are tiny scratches. I’d be amazed if there weren’t.

But it suddenly interests me to think that each one of those scratches represents an actual event that occurred. Each one was an independent happening, unrelated to the others that came later. Each one counts.

The door was delivered clean and scratch-free. On the first day in service, the buckle of a woman’s bag scraped it a bit while she quickly forced her way out, pushing past the rude people forcing their way in. A tiny fleck of metal (or metal-colored paint) ripped away or pushed to the sides.

And maybe, at that time, one would actually notice the mark on the door. It was alone. But by the end of the day, there were so many traumatic door events that no one even saw the damage caused by one buckle. No one even would say that the door was scratched. It looked as it should. A subway door.

But each event happened independently. Each one has a story. Every little mark on the floor, every dent in the concrete, every chip in the wood, every mar on every surface is there because something gouged, smudged, shocked, punctured, or otherwise acted to put it there.

Each trudging foot trampled the carpet fibers down and ground dirt into them. Each instance made its mark. Though we can’t hear it, each speck of dust that lands on your books makes a small, but verifiable, difference. Each falling, crashing, chunk of minute matter matters. It nestles in among the fibers of the pages and alters them.

[Not to mention how dust became dust. How at one time it was part of a whole. An indistinguishable smooth continuation of the wall, say, or of your wife. But one day, one second, it broke off with a huge (but tiny) cracking sound. Or it sheared off and away, sliding into entity-hood before plummeting downwards (and sometimes back up again) onto your furniture.]

So. I don’t know. I’ve been noticing little things.