I
stood by the counter at work bagging apples. I turned when I heard footsteps
enter the store and smiled at a middle aged woman who entered. “Hello, how are
you doing today?” I asked in a cheerful voice.
“Good,”
she answered. “Do you have a washroom?”
I
said yes and proceeded to direct her when she said, “My son is coming in on
crutches.” From the corner of my eye I saw a young man in his early twenties
hobbling towards me. I mentally took a deep breath because I’m not fond of
helping young men.
He
came closer and I looked him squarely in the eye and said, “right down this
hallway, it’s the last door on the right.”
His
eyes met mine and he responded with a gentle “thank you.”
I
turned on my heel and finished preparing the apples. The young man came back
and helped his mother collect what they needed. When he was looking at the
tomatoes I saw the reason for his crutches. The left leg of his track pants was
rolled up just below where his knee should have been to reveal nothing but air.
After helping them at the front counter and teasing them about bring me back
some apple pie he drove away in his red truck with his mother on the passenger
side.
I wondered how he had lost his leg.
Then I thought about how most people saw him as half a person. I hope he knew I
saw him as whole.
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