On the train home this evening there were no seats. I stood in the aisle holding on to the bar. It had been a very long day and I did not feel like being around people anymore. And I was crammed into a commuter train with over a hundred. I must have been on the train about 15 minutes before I even looked at the woman in front of me. She appeared to be in her mid-forties, probably not very wealthy, and probably on her way back from a long day of work too. There was nothing especially remarkable about her appearance. The only reason I even gave her a second thought was the crochet hook she held in her hand. She was making tiny, beautiful, crocheted flowers out of bright red, orange, and yellow. The colors were a stark contrast to the mundane blacks, greys, and browns of all the passengers’ work day clothes. The yarn she was using was very fine so the flowers she was creating were very delicate looking. I watched her for a few minutes struck by the contrast between the beauty she was creating and the dull surroundings of the train car. When I looked up again, I glanced around to see if anyone else was watching her but no one seemed to be looking at much of anything. I looked back at the flowers blooming in her hands and I realized that I had not really seen anything beautiful all day. I think I was a little starved for beauty actually. I wonder if the woman was too. I wonder if that’s why she brought her crochet hook and yarn along with her for her commute. Maybe she needed to add a little beauty to her otherwise mundane world.