I moved to Texas in the heat. One-o-five degrees, to be exact. The weather app on my phone claims it feels like one-eighteen.

The sweat beads forming on my neck and rolling down my back beg to differ.

It feels hotter than that. 

At the end of a long work day, I join a group of tired looking commuters at the curb, waiting for the 801 bus to appear. Beside me, the fidget spinner in a young girl’s hand spins faster, providing a much-needed distraction from the scorching sun. Businessmen and women stand in their blazers and trousers, their once crisp clothing now drenched in sweat. I watch their expressions of discomfort as they wipe their brows. I glance at my phone, as if checking the time will make the bus come just a little bit faster.

“Are you waiting for the 801 too?”

I asked the man beside me after noticing the bus was a few minutes late. 

Seconds turn to minutes, and each one felt like an eternity.

“Yup,” he muttered, barely able to get a word out before burying his head into his phone.

The bus appears on the horizon and screeches to a halt. We compete for a position, hoping to secure a seat on the already packed bus. The woman beside me senses my fatigue and stands up from the last available seat, kindly offering me her spot.

“Take my seat,” she insists in a kind but firm way.

“Thank you,” I said, nodding in her direction.

“No problem. It’s too hot to sit, anyway.”

The limited space forces her to lean against the metal pole. 

She smiles anyway.

It was a small act of kindness amidst the sweaty chaos around us. I watch as the child beside us throws himself to the floor, letting out a long cry, vocalizing how we are all feeling on the inside. Although his parents are clearly worn down by the day’s demands, they gently hold his hand and whisper soothing words to quiet his cries. As I continue to scan the scene around me, I notice pained expressions looking to the sky, cursing whoever sent the fiery sun to Austin, Texas. A few hands fold in prayer, seeking salvation from a higher power.

The 801 bus trudges down the road as each sweaty traveler pulls the steel wire to exit the bus, one by one. I peer out the window, observing Austin’s cityscape bathed in late afternoon sunlight. My mind drifts. When I arrived here, I carried three bags: two in my hands and one on my back. I still have no idea what Austin has in store for me. Like the heat, life is unpredictable, defying even my best attempts at control. I suppose I could have prepared better, but the truth is, the outcome was never in my hands.

Stepping off the bus, I think of the woman who gave me her seat so I could be more comfortable, or the kindness of the two parents while they quieted their child’s cries. Adversity has a way of revealing our true selves, of bringing out our compassion and strength in trying times. 

I moved to Texas in the heat. One-o-five degrees, to be exact, but it no longer feels as oppressive as it once did. The heat is a teacher, and the everyday kindness I witnessed on the bus became a beautiful reminder to keep my eyes on the sky and my feet on the ground, even in a city hotter than ninety-nine percent of the world.