Before I know it, I'm parsing 25 years worth of memories to find an answer.
Isobel and I were sitting in my truck, about to head home from a local cafe we like. We'd had ourselves a breakfast & coffee coworking date, as we sometimes do. And then, right after I climbed into the driver's seat, she turned to me and asked something that took a second to process.
The car across from us kept backing up even though there was an older couple walking steadily in its path. I thought about honking but didn't want to frighten the gentleman who'd seemed a bit wobbly already. So I just watched with held breath, hands clenching the steering wheel.
"huh?"
I asked it before playing back the tape of what she'd said and basically answered my own question. I do that a lot, I think.
Isobel wanted to know how opening the door for her became a thing. Why do I always do it, when did it start—what's the backstory, basically. With the car and the couple safely out of the way, I pulled out of the parking spot while I thought about it.
"I... I don't really know" I told her.
"It's not something I really focus on" I confessed, then added "It's more like autopilot."
Why is she asking me this now?
And wait... why do I do that?
So I started sorting through moments, looking for things that could've influenced me over the years. I thought of my mom's ex-boyfriend. Then my grandfather, and my other grandfather. I guess even my dad did it at times—almost exclusively with my grandmother, though (his mom). And he still grumbled irritably while doing so. It seemed like maybe he only wanted to be thought of as someone who held the door for people. He really only did it when he thought people were watching. I'm speculating, but it always bothered me regardless. A lot. It was just such a departure from who he was without an audience.
Loosening my hands a bit from their grip on the wheel and unclenching my jaw, I looked over at Isobel, exhaled through my nose, and smiled a small smile. And then I told her about the slideshow I'd just gone through in my head—the good and the bad. About how I started opening the passenger-side door for dates because it's who I wanted to be.
My curiosity dissipated. It didn't really matter why Isobel asked me this now, after all this time. She liked that I did it. I liked that she felt considered.
On the one hand, it's such a little thing; and yet, on the other... to me, it's everything.
Do you hold the door for people? Do you open the car door for them? What's the story behind why?
onward.
For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.