The Shopping Cart Rider

January 13. The scent of the Vegas air hit me hard as I walked home from school. The busy city was bustling with life and my spirits were high. I'd just gotten done with theatre rehearsal for the spring musical and my confidence was soaring. The not-so-brisk January air surprised me. Usually by this time, Vegas has at least a LITTLE chill to it.

I try to look mean when I walk so that way people don't bother me in anyway, but today, it just wasn't happening! I had the biggest smile on my face, a spring in my step, and my heart was on my sleeve. In that moment, I felt like I could do anything. My camera bobbed from a string around my neck and my eyes were itching for something to take a shot of.

The slight breeze brushed my hair off of my shoulder and I looked at it, floating freely in the wind, my newly dyed red highlights twirling around and dancing in the sun. It made me smile, it was so beautiful, angelic almost.

Normally, I might've tried to tame it, maybe lock it up inside my hood, but not today. Today, I let my hair roam free, and it made me feel like a little kid all over again. I laughed a little bit.

I started to sing:

"I won't give up on us

Even if the skies get rough

I'm givin' you all my love

'Cause god knows you're worth it."

That just so happened to be the only part of the song I was familiar with so I just repeated it. I was down past Charleston now when I looked around an started remembering every memory I had from Torrey Pines and how much time I had to create more. The bright blue sky was vast above me and the sun shined overhead and it felt like spring.

It was beautiful. It was all so beautiful. The memories, the feeling, the weather.

I continued walking just up past Rose Warren and I looked across the street and I saw a man.

He was older. His age ranged from late forties to early fifties. His clothes were ratty and he wore a run-down hat over his eyes. He didn't look at me, just looked straight forward with no emotion whatsoever. His shoulders led out to his rough hands that gripped the tearing, dulled handle of an old shopping cart.

The man didn't even notice me walking opposite him. He just went on a-pushing his little shopping cart. I looked at him. Watched him. There was something about him that made me feel like he was different, so I watched him.

His face so deadpan, his hands gripping the broken handle tight. I watched him as we neared each other from opposite ends, I started to space off when a movement out of the peripheral of my vision had my focus sharpen on the man again.

He own focus had changed. Now, instead of looking forward, he looked down at his worn out boots, he didn't stop pushing the cart, and he smiled.

It shocked me a bit, but I continued to watch as he lifted his right leg and placed it on the lower rack of the shopping cart and put his weight into it a little bit watching the contents. Now that he was closer I could see that he was pushing along a heavy load.

When he realized his weight wouldn't make a difference, he started, instead of just hopping along, he started pushing with his left foot.

I watched in amazement as he lifted his second foot onto the shopping cart and flew down the hill right past me, the biggest smile plastered on his face. He looked like a child who had just been given a candy store and the happiness in that mans face is something I came to envy. I went home, my mood even brighter.

*****

The next day I left school and began walking towards Charleston again singing:

"Baby, I love you