what a man, what a man, what a man, what a mighty good man...
the last time i was at the gym, i watched this man struggle over to his car. he shuffled with a walker and his cankles were larger than my thighs. but he showed up. he made the effort. it took him, conservatively, 10 minutes to reach his his car. i watched him in awe; amazed by his fortitude.
and so i wondered. amazed by the indolence of folk. if this guy can show up; why can't others?
what is his story? in the club of the chronically ill? i often feel alone; scared and overwhelmed; but in watching this man struggle, i felt a connection. a partner in crime. my peep.
does he feel my frustrations? bound by physical limitations?
perhaps past behaviors led him to this point. imbalanced actions he now regrets. but, i'm one to talk. a pill-popping, deeply depressed woman, i navigate this ship of fools-and barely.
who are your heroes? the ones who fill your eyes with stars; striking your soul ablaze? i have always struggled with this answer, for i have always come up short.
society has it's own ideas, of which i care very little. the oh, so very north american accomplishments, that have an appropriate place, but serve up empty calories for the soul.
and so this guy. his gym visit a leaden albatross he tossed off with the grace of a feathery boa, showed me the milky way...
and with the shy smile he sent my way, i found my first hero.
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