Love in All Shapes and Sizes

I approach the intersection, like I do numerous times a week. It’s one of those where you settle in, knowing you’re going to have a good long wait. That’s when I see him just like I’ve seen him before. He used to walk, then he got a bike. The bike, just like him, is a little older and kind of beat up. I see the telltale signs of the gang culture. He is sporting the long khaki colored shorts that have trouble staying up in back with black “man socks” that come up high enough that only an inch or two of skin show between the shorts and the socks. On his feet are the black work shoes and up top is the required trucker cap and dark sunglasses. He’s very thin, perhaps a bit too thin and looks like the bike is his only mode of transportation at this point in time.

I saw him yesterday and the day before, riding his bike with one hand and a football size cargo in the other. It made the riding somewhat awkward but he was careful. Doing circles around the sidewalk, as if he had no real destination. Today was different. He was using both hands on the bike as he had MacGyvered a milk crate to the front of his handlebars with Bungee cords and some metal strapping.  Very handy for groceries or other small items. It was not groceries he carried today but the same precious cargo from the day before only now the cargo had a perfect view of the ride. Inside the basket was a tiny, quite old and shabbyish gray poodle. It’s fur was sparse and it’s tongue flapped in the wind but both driver and passenger seemed pretty content.

It filled my heart to the brim.