Grasping Hope

 Grasping Hope

17FEB2009

I was sitting at the Mickey D's this morning reading a boring textbook and sipping a diet coke. I noticed movement on my right and looked up to see a man--about fifty--walking along, slowly and with a peculiar gait.

It wasn't until he passed me completely that I noticed the reason for his odd walk.  Beside him, on his right, hobbled along an older man whose gnarled hand grasped a wooden cane.  The second man was older--about 22 or 23 years or so--and had the exact same profile as the first man. I imagined that they were father and son.

The son walked in an off-balanced way because his left hand sat on his Daddy's side and his right one grasped a bit of the fabric at the back of his father's jeans. He was like the human version of a pair of training wheels.

Upon seeing this sight of familial cre, my heart filled right up to the brim with sentimentality. I love these moments when the small cynical side of me is reminded of the basic goodness of human beings. I wanted to cry with happiness; and, in the end, I did.