… and it reminded me of everything I hope for.
The man in question had serious physical disabilities. His left foot pointed almost directly inward. His legs didn’t seem to be oriented in the way that yours or mine are. I suspect his spine didn’t curve in a typical direction either.
He walked forcefully, arms flailing out to the sides. His feet stamped their way into the concrete. With every step you feared he might topple forwards, but he didn’t. My first reaction was to look away “don’t stare ate the disabled person and make them uncomfortable”. But, I forced myself to look back, as I always do. It’s unnatural to not stare at a sight like that. I think it’s doing them a great injustice to pretend they aren’t who, and what, they are. So I looked…
He wore a nicely trimmed beard, light blue dress shirt, navy blue pants, black socks, and brown leather dress shoes, and a face that demanded my respect, because he wasn’t “flailing”. He was walking, and he wasn’t giving up. He could have taken the easy route and used a wheelchair, but he didn’t. He got up, got dressed, and walked to work, despite all the looks he knew he’d get, despite the fact that he was burning more calories than a jogger on his way in to work.
I want to be that bad-ass.