The Man on the Bus

By Julie Ferris-Tillman

The boy sat, wide-legged, in the reserved seats on the crowded bus. He walked out of a stereotype: pick in his hair, pants snug atop his thighs. His youthful arrogance oozed. Then, the blind man got on; we collectively held our breath. No open seats and the man moved straight to the reserved bench he knew well. The boy stood, walked to the man, wordlessly and expertly guided him to his seat. Attitude and posture still coursed from the boy’s now standing body. He surprised us all. Faces reddened, embarrassed at our presumptions. Strangers, together, beamed with pride … and hope.