Twice a week, a hollowed out old man, similar to the one above, comes to the therapy pool. When I watch him lurk towards the water, I'm reminded of you. If we looked on the outside how we felt on the inside, you'd resemble him.
His muscles twist and stiffen creating a stuttered movement as he walks. He towers over me, skeletal, hagard, used up. Aged beyond his years by hardship and struggle, an illness. Even his skin betrays him. The small folds hang heavy pulling him further down. In some respects, I wish we were that way...Obvious...not deceptive or hidden. I have to believe that people would make more of an effort to heal and treat others kindly. But at the same time, maybe people wouldn't reach out to the broken. Maybe they would be avoided and discarded. One time I asked the old man how his day was going, he instantly became a different person. He has a smile that would light up the largest of rooms. Now when I see him, he is no longer the hagard hollowed out man I initially saw. He's a kind, gentle, lively young soul. Ultimately, given the chance, their truths will shine through.