Joanne

I was immediately perturbed when someone kept nudging into me at the bus stop this morning. I stood with two bags of groceries neatly placed on the ground right next to my feet. Then I felt this tapping on my feet like a little toddler was stepping on my toes. That's when I got really annoyed and turned around to see who had the gall to keep running into someone and not even apologize. A quick and abrupt pang of shame went through me when I saw the blind woman with her walking stick settle calmly next to me. I mentally slapped myself on my wrist very hard. She asked out loud, "Is anyone there?" Among all the graduate students standing impatiently for their ride to campus this morning, every single one of them gave the blind lady a once-over. Freaking MBA students are so disgusting sometimes. I awkwardly answered in the affirmative and turned the other way to peer down Walnut Street for the next bus. She then asked out loud, but to no one in particular, "Is there anyone who can tell me what this is?" Again, no one answered. I turned to see a small dime sitting on the palm of her hand stretched out in front of her. I answered and she returned her hand into her pocketbook to fetch what she had hoped the dime was - a token. She needed more information - how many buses had she missed? Is there a 21 in the visible distance? Would the 42 take her to 36th & Walnut? But no one, not a one of the eleven people standing at the bus stop with me this morning, would answer her - except for me. By the time the bus arrived, I offered her my arm to guide her onto the bus. She happily accepted my help and I agreed to walk her to 36th & Walnut since she had only taken the 21 to 36th Street. As I left Joanne at the corner across from the bookstore, she said she knew how to reach her exercise class one block from there. Exercise class - yes, Joanne, who lost her vision six years ago, was attending an exercise class.

That's what I call perspective.