Changes and reflection

When I was riding down the bike path this morning I had a sudden realization. There is a hill at one point and about 50 yards from the bottom of the hill are some picnic tables. There is a black man who sits at the first table. He lives there. I don't know where he goes at night. They don't allow the homeless to sleep in the parks. We have a lot. Homeless and parks. One morning I went by and he was gone and I was worried that something happened to him. But I passed him walking back down the path later and seeing him close I realized he was younger than I had thought. I like him. He has this dignity about him. He keeps his things very organized. He's always doing something when I go by. He's there at any time of day I go by except that one time. He never appears intoxicated or even hung over and he never panhandles. Actually his demeanor is kind of unapproachable. As I flew by and saw him where I have seen him for the last almost 7 years I kind of saw this movie in my head.

Although he was always the same, in the same place, nothing ever seeming to change, I realized that if he had been watching ( and I'm certain that with the hundreds of people who pass him day after day, I don't stand out any more than any other and I don't think he pays attention to anybody anyway)But, If he had been observing people he would have seen me at about 235 pounds with long brown hair laboring along on my Huffy in jeans and a T-shirt. Having to stop and get off and push it up the hill. Later, a little smaller, a little stronger on my Schwinn mountain bike, picking up a little speed, attacking the hill, making it about 6 feet then getting off to push, in shorts and a T-shirt. Later on my Schwinn, having changed to road bike tires, short red hair, bike shorts and my husband, having succumbed finally to the biking bug, along for the ride. Still later, in full bike gear on my Novarra, flying down the hill, confident and standing up on the pedals, then biking, with effort back up on the return trip, all the way to the top but breathing heavy. And still later, back on the Schwinn, now with a kangaroo seat in front of my and my 2 year old granddaughter, Lydia, on the front and 4 year old grandson, Caleb, on his Trail=a=bike, pedaling like crazy, attached behind my husband. And today, on my beloved Trek, strong, muscled, and hitting that hill like I own it and making the top without even a change in my breathing. So much time passing, so many changes. For me. And nothing for him.

On the way back by, I stopped. He looked at me suspiciously. I told him that as I passed this morning I realized that I had been riding by him for almost 7 years and he was just always there and that the one time he wasn't I was worried about him. I asked him if there was anything he wanted or needed. Anything that would make things easier or just something he would really like to have. He said no, a guy had just given him something. I assumed he meant money. I told him if there was something he needed I would like to try to make it happen. He said he though he was ok. I told him that if he thought of something to just flag me down next time i went by and I would see what I could do. Now I will wave to him when I pass. Sometimes people need to know that they aren't invisible and that in some way they matter to people.