"I found God on the corner of First and Amistad" --The Fray

This morning, on my standard commute, I am sitting in my car at a light and I turn to the right and see two guys standing, smoking, staring in my direction. I immediately feel uncomfortable. I don't know why. I think "dirtbags". I wonder why I have this visceral--and likely unfair--reaction. I look around, not seeing anything they might be staring at. I look back at them. They're still standing, smoking, staring. I don't want to make eye contact so I look straight ahead.

It's a long light. And I won't turn my head to the right. So, eventually, I turn to the left, again. There, I see a young man (20s?) with a book bag slung over his shoulder and he's walking but not like you and I walk. His legs don't work right. It's as if he's dragging each leg to get each foot into the right configuration. If he weren't so young, I'd think he had polio. Muscular dystrophy? Cerebral palsy? Sadly, there are lots of reasons legs don't work right. I think "poor guy" as I watch him slowly, laboriously make his way down the sidewalk.

As he is crossing the street, he breaks into a run. It's somehow less disturbing to watch him run. He's still ungainly but maybe it's because lots of people look flaily when they run and he is impressive. He is booking it for all he's worth and I'm surprised at how quickly he can move.

It's at this point that the bus comes up and I realize this guy is running for the bus stop. The light is changing but the bus goes through the yellow light and I know there's no way this guy is going to make the bus stop in time. He's still too far away. If only the bus had stopped at the light... My heart sinks for this guy.

With the light change, I start to drive. And, as I go, I see the bus pull up next to the running guy and the doors open. He stops and turns. And I am happy.