dear old man on union street,

thank you for so generously offering that hefty round of applause as i limped past you on my morning jog. when i first turned the corner from perkins street onto union street, i saw you making your way down the driveway...shuffling in your slippers, bathrobe tied gently around your waist, trash can following your left hand's guidance.  i was envious.  why did i exchange my cozy slippers and warm pajamas for running shoes and achy legs?  you started shuffling your way back to the house, with a bit more ginger now that the trash can had been dropped off.  out of the corner of your eye you saw me coming.  and you stopped.  you watched me, and you lifted your hands and started clapping.  "you're doing great," you said, "it's a beautiful day for a run...keep up the good work!"  maybe you saw the twinges of pain in my face.  exercising with a bum hip is no fun.  perhaps you can understand?  maybe you're just a genuinely nice old man who would say that no matter who was running or walking by.  i don't really know.  but i do know that i needed a cheerleader on my jog today and i'm thankful that you chose to take out your trash and stop at the end of your driveway.