Jan 2015
The weather was unusually bright and intoxicating for a late March day in Seattle. A beautifully lit sun was shining majestically upon the city, revealing shadowed sidewalks and snow capped mountains - a reminder of what season we had most recently endured. The Space Needle stood as brilliant and bold as a postcard photo, while tourists shuffled with dogged determination in hopes of capturing that most perfect moment of their soon-to-be memory. Despite the sun's brilliance, there was still a windy chill in the Emerald City which required more than a mere sweater.
As I waited patiently for my bus, I noticed a woman occupying the covered bus stop across the street. At first glance she seemed like every other "normal" woman in wait - she was bundled up in an early spring overcoat, her thickly braided hair was piled atop her head and embellished with an exotic scarf, and she had the most gorgeous red colored lipstick covering her full lips. She wore black slacks and a long ankle length black sweater. At closer glance, I saw she was accompanied by a child's stroller full of bulky items. The entire thing was wrapped tightly with black plastic garbage bags to keep it covered and dry. I then noticed the bottom hem of her slacks were filthy and terribly frayed, and her sock filled sandals were near mutilated and worn thin. She began speaking loudly and aggressively, flailing her arms about. She seemed to be having an emphatic conversation on what appeared to be a broken cell phone - the back of which was completely exposed - showing a missing battery.
I wondered how she got to where she was in life? What had happened to make her lose her mind, herself? I was engulfed with both empathy and fear, knowing that I could be just a few bad life choices or circumstances away from where she stood. My thoughts then pictured her as a tiny, newborn baby - innocent, pure, and full of new life and possibilities. She was once someone's pride and joy, or perhaps someone's honest mistake. As my mind flirted with such images she suddenly became more restless, walking back and forth while expressively talking to "someone" on that non-working cellphone. I then wondered what her dreams were as a child, her strengths and her creative gifts? I grew angry pondering who or what made her go from an angelic child of the universe to a blabbering idiot whose only belongings were a broken cell phone, a baby carriage, and a pretty ******-off alternate reality.
At that very moment a heard a noise that sounded a lot like a skateboard. As I turned to my left, I saw an incredibly handsome and well-dressed young man pushing himself in a wheelchair. As we both caught each other's eyes, there was an innocent moment of mutual attraction.
He was gorgeous, like John F. Kennedy Jr. gorgeous.
We smiled at one another, but his smile had an air of apology and shame coloring its edges - as if he was newly destined to his life in that chair, but was trying his best to boldly accept it. I wondered if my smile was also colored, unconsciously, with ignorant sympathy and sorrow for his lot in life.
However, it saddened me to think of how harsh life can be for someone in his predicament. How his good looks, skills, and charms could possibly be overshadowed by his disability - and society's quick judgements to those who are surviving them.
As he wheeled past me with the strength and determination of an Ivy League rowing champ, my heart opened wider while my eyes welled up with tears. Here were two true survivors thriving as best they could in their current circumstances. Such interactions seem like enormous lessons in universal acceptance. Each of these individuals has the option, as we all do, to put a gun in their mouths or lay upon the train tracks and end the ****** card life has dealt them. Instead, they are choosing to shamelessly BE at this moment in time, regardless of the unfair advantage life has given them in it's little game.
Who knew you could learn so much about gratitude, humility, and acceptance from a chance encounter at a bus stop with a handsome, well-dressed man in a wheelchair, and a proud homeless woman with the loveliest shade of crimson upon her lips....
As I waited patiently for my bus, I noticed a woman occupying the covered bus stop across the street. At first glance she seemed like every other "normal" woman in wait - she was bundled up in an early spring overcoat, her thickly braided hair was piled atop her head and embellished with an exotic scarf, and she had the most gorgeous red colored lipstick covering her full lips. She wore black slacks and a long ankle length black sweater. At closer glance, I saw she was accompanied by a child's stroller full of bulky items. The entire thing was wrapped tightly with black plastic garbage bags to keep it covered and dry. I then noticed the bottom hem of her slacks were filthy and terribly frayed, and her sock filled sandals were near mutilated and worn thin. She began speaking loudly and aggressively, flailing her arms about. She seemed to be having an emphatic conversation on what appeared to be a broken cell phone - the back of which was completely exposed - showing a missing battery.
I wondered how she got to where she was in life? What had happened to make her lose her mind, herself? I was engulfed with both empathy and fear, knowing that I could be just a few bad life choices or circumstances away from where she stood. My thoughts then pictured her as a tiny, newborn baby - innocent, pure, and full of new life and possibilities. She was once someone's pride and joy, or perhaps someone's honest mistake. As my mind flirted with such images she suddenly became more restless, walking back and forth while expressively talking to "someone" on that non-working cellphone. I then wondered what her dreams were as a child, her strengths and her creative gifts? I grew angry pondering who or what made her go from an angelic child of the universe to a blabbering idiot whose only belongings were a broken cell phone, a baby carriage, and a pretty ******-off alternate reality.
At that very moment a heard a noise that sounded a lot like a skateboard. As I turned to my left, I saw an incredibly handsome and well-dressed young man pushing himself in a wheelchair. As we both caught each other's eyes, there was an innocent moment of mutual attraction.
He was gorgeous, like John F. Kennedy Jr. gorgeous.
We smiled at one another, but his smile had an air of apology and shame coloring its edges - as if he was newly destined to his life in that chair, but was trying his best to boldly accept it. I wondered if my smile was also colored, unconsciously, with ignorant sympathy and sorrow for his lot in life.
However, it saddened me to think of how harsh life can be for someone in his predicament. How his good looks, skills, and charms could possibly be overshadowed by his disability - and society's quick judgements to those who are surviving them.
As he wheeled past me with the strength and determination of an Ivy League rowing champ, my heart opened wider while my eyes welled up with tears. Here were two true survivors thriving as best they could in their current circumstances. Such interactions seem like enormous lessons in universal acceptance. Each of these individuals has the option, as we all do, to put a gun in their mouths or lay upon the train tracks and end the ****** card life has dealt them. Instead, they are choosing to shamelessly BE at this moment in time, regardless of the unfair advantage life has given them in it's little game.
Who knew you could learn so much about gratitude, humility, and acceptance from a chance encounter at a bus stop with a handsome, well-dressed man in a wheelchair, and a proud homeless woman with the loveliest shade of crimson upon her lips....
