Letter To Bhudda

Bhudda, babe ...

What's up bro? Looking good, all zen-like and stuff. Hey did you just have your eyebrows done? They look fabulous! The ear piercings? With that hair? Mmmm... I'd re-think it. But listen, I don't judge. You're Bhudda.

Anyway, I wanted to let you know I did about 45 minutes of cardio today at the gym. I know! It was totally sweaty! So I'm thinking that evens things out with the loaf of garlic bread I ate with dinner. I said loaf. C'mere B, I want to lay a big, garlic breath toungue-kiss on ya. I know... totally hot, right?

So I was on my way home, about a block from the apartment, and I hear a clatter. I look ahead on the sidewalk and see someone fall to the ground. I'm too far away but because I see a small light blue coat I'm thinking a kid fell off a bike. Aww, so sad. Whoever it is is moving but not getting up. As I get closer now I see that it's not a kid and there's no bike. Closer still, and whoever it is is trying to get up. I'm finally close enough to realize it's an elderly woman. The clatter was the sound of her metal shopping cart falling to the sidewalk. As she struggles to get up she begins to look in either direction. She finally spots me as I've sped up to get to her. This being New York, notice I don't run. Like she's going anywhere.

I'm close enough to see her face.

"Stay there, I'll help you get up."

I'm at her side by now, and put down my gym bag and groceries.

"They should keep these streets in better condition," she says.

"I know. And right in front of the hospital too."

"I'm trying to get up but I need someone to hold on to."

I hear ya, sister.

But there wasn't a thing wrong with the sidewalk. No gravel or cracks or patch of ice. I looked. But she seemed to need for there to be, so I agreed with her, it was the sidewalk.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm not hurt I just need help getting up."

By now a hispanic couple had walked up from the other direction.

"Help him," the young lady instructed her man.

"O.K." I said, "We're gonna get you up."

So we each grabbed an arm and gently righted her. She was light as a feather and couldn't have been over 5 feet tall.

"Are you sure you're OK?"

"I'm fine, thank you ... the streets are in bad shape."

"You gonna be OK to walk home?"

"Yes, I'll be OK. Oh, thank you so much."

"It was my pleasure, you take care now."

Yo, Bhudda. How funny would it be if now I snatched her purse and ran? But no, I continued home. Felt pretty good, though.

So here's why I'm reaching out to ya, Bhudda bud. I know that there's probably some good Kharma coming to me in my next life, helping me along the spiritual plane and yadda yadda yadda... ensuring I don't come back as some single-celled, puss-oozing, asexual, gross being. But do you think I could cash some of that Kharma in now, in this here current life? In other words. Bhudda. My man. My cheese. Could I please catch a fucking break?

Yours in spirit and peace.
Your friend,
Tom.