On my way to go paddle this morning, I stopped at a red traffic light. It was still dark out, a shade after 5:30AM and only the intermittent cars and buildings were glowing. In the shadows of the black, was a lone man; a vagrant. Blind. He was sitting softly at the light, clutching his make-shift guide stick; his face buried into his free hand.
He was sobbing.
I stopped and listened carefully. In between the sobs, he was singing a really sad song. In a foreign tongue but with the sweetest tones.
Miles from home, in a foreign country all alone, blind and wandering the streets of Cape Town sits a grown man crying.
And I’m off to go paddle in the pursuit of health, happiness and adventure. I’ll go back home after my hard paddle and choose between a breakfast of oats or Pronutro and huddle around the breakfast table with my clan drinking hot tea.
Never complain about getting out of bed. Ever.