I watch them each morning, going about their business rushing to and from, on the treadmill of life. A woman walks her dog as the sun rises. A man drops off
his daughter on his way to work. Still another returns, perhaps he worked the night shift.
I hear their cars starting one by one as their day begins; off to work, school, or any one of the myriad of places people go each day; seemingly with little effort.
I call them the normal people. I was once one of them; going about my daily activities effortlessly. Now I watch, looking upon them with a combination of envy, sadness, and longing. I feel sad from the loss of functionality that has been taken from me, I envy them doing with ease what to me is now a struggle, and I long, oh how I long, to be one of them once more.
I wonder what their stories are; how different might they be from mine. Maybe they aren’t so different; maybe it takes them extra effort too, maybe they are in pain, lost, or sad.
Ultimately I wonder if perhaps, just out of my sight, there sits someone else watching. Perhaps they too sit and watch the normal people, hoping that they could be one of them.