There's a gentleman in my apartment complex. Actually, I'm sure there's more than one. But this one in particular brings me great joy. We don't stop & chat. He's never "popped in". I don't have to worry about spending an hour with him listening to gossip or avoiding personal questions about myself.
He brings me great joy because of, or in spite of, a disability he has. He's elderly, though that's not a disability. I think my grandma would disagree. I'd wager he's in his early 70's. His disability is that he's deaf.
We smile, nod, and hand gesture to each other. I'm sure my hand gestures are in no way, shape or form sign language. I hand gesture constantly and it could probably be construed as a big "F you", but not when I'm talking to him. Or at least I hope not.
I see this guy way more than any other person in my complex. I don't think he's stalking me. That'd be a first-- my first 70-year-old-stalker. Niiiiice. No. I think he's just lonely and likes to be outside. I first noticed him because he was going through our dumpster looking for pop cans. I now leave him my empties to recycle outside his garage.
He brings me great joy because regardless of his disabilities or his problems, he's always got a nice greeting. He's always smiling. He always brings a smile to my face, and trust me, that's not an easy thing to do.
I must be hormonal, because thinking about this guy, about what his life might be like, makes me emotional.
I need a Motrin.
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