Drive on

Tonight as I was on my way to an after work engagement, I was stopped at a red light and there was a man on the side walk. He was graying, slightly hunched, sporting a Rockies baseball cap and a personal breathing aid. His sign read, "Veteran with cancer. Anything can help." As I was stopped at this light, I looked through my polarized glasses at this man. There was a magnetism pulling me towards him. More than half of me wanted to get out of the car and talk to him; offer to take him to dinner and then to where ever he might need to go. I kept thinking what if that was my parent, my friend or what if that was me, 40 years down the road.

All I did was drive on, because I was heading to an event, and because I didn't have enough guts to turn around. But I wanted to know about this man's life, his children, where he protected our country. I wanted to comfort him and make him feel cared for because I do actual care for him. My heart goes out to him. He has served my country; he's protected me and my freedoms. And I couldn't mustard up the courage to turn around and ask him how he was doing?