Today I was hungry. I know right? Huge shocker.
Anyway I was on campus and decided that I was get Chick Fil A for the thousandth time since starting at this university. I hate it, really, but sometimes it's the most practical option.
I walk up to the counter and try to reach around the guy in front me of me fumbling with his bag, trying to put sauces in it. I think nothing of it, until he continues to struggle. Then I look down at his hands. They're severely deformed, to the point that he only has two fingers in total.
With a thousand things running through my mind now, I reach over and open up his bag for him, and he quickly puts the sauce packets in. "Is that better?" I ask kindly. "Yes," he replies with a warm smile, and he walks away.
In hindsight, I still can't decide if that was the right thing to do. In the moment I thought it was the kind thing to do, but at the same time I don't want him to feel like I was infringing on his independence and overly pitying him, which I'm sure he feels a lot.
But more importantly, that guy is an inspiration. He didn't let his handicap stop him from graduating from high school and pursuing his desire for a college education. Think how difficult it would be: you couldn't type or take notes or even read very easily. You couldn't turn door handles or drive or text. Almost everything is against him, yet here he is, trying to do what the rest of us are doing, except infinitely many times harder. Basically everything I take for granted, he can't do. And the fact that he still has such warmth and kindness...well, it's very moving. I admire that. If I were him, I'm not sure if I would have the courage to do the same.
I have no legitimate reason to complain about anything at all. Life could be a thousand times harder if I had been born with that birth defect. Last semester, when I was in the library really early, the cleaners would be cleaning the area around me, and I'd just be sitting there thinking how it was because of my privilege that I was the one getting a college education and not them; under different circumstances, I would be a cleaner too. And that's not fair, is it? That one's parents' social class can literally determine your whole life. Or the body you are born in. Life would also be a thousand times harder if I didn't have the opportunities that I do.
I stress over a lot, but it's all extremely petty in comparison to what it could be. I have a life with independence and opportunities that many people can only dream of. And I need to start seeing it as a dream, too.
