The Sherpa

I noticed them go by. Joe and I were sitting having a cup of tea on a patio somewhere in downtown Boston. It was lovely as we were completely shaded and there was a tiny bit of a breeze. The three of them slowly walked by. He was a distinguished looking grey haired man who looked as if he was new to, and uncomfortable in, a wheelchair. Two young women were with him, they all looked enough alike to suggest they swam in the same gene pool. There was a brittle silence amongst them.

About half way through my green tea they came out of the store they had gone into. One woman was pulling a large square box on a dolly, a large, long, rectangular box lay resting across the arms of the wheelchair. They slowly made their way towards us. When they got close enough, I called out to the guy in the wheelchair, 'You know, man, they are totally using you right now.' He looked at me startled. I said again, 'Really, man, they are so using you.' Slowly his mouth formed into a small then larger smile. He got and he liked the joke.

The woman with the dolly walking ahead turned and there was a gasp from her. She said, under her breath, 'I thought he'd forgotten how to smile.' As he was passing he said something that I couldn't hear. But the woman pushing the chair did and she screamed with laughter. He was still looking at me and I knew he'd got a good one off because now he was chuckling. Sometimes I laugh just because someone else is laughing. Suddenly Joe and I were curled up laughing.

They made their way down the street.

Sometimes I regret my impulsively.

Sometimes I don't.

At that moment, I absolutely did not.