When I pass old men in the street sometimes, I close my eyes and imagine who they used to be. This one, with a cane and a limp, just nearly broke his neck checking out the ass of a seventy three year old lady on a walker. He grinned so hard I thought his teeth would fly. I know who he used to be. And another, so gray and slight I fear he’ll fade right where he stands. A car backfires suddenly and he flinches like he just touched fire. Shaken, he hastily adjusts his sleeve before anyone can see the numbers on his arm. But I saw, and now I know him too. This ninety year old girl in a wheelchair is listening to music on her iPhone, and I know people half her age who are less alive than she is. She grins at me and I swear I can see that wheelchair dance. Just before I turn the corner, I see she has no legs. I have to stop to catch my breath now, and you take the opportunity to catch my eye and smile. I lean on my cane and wonder, did you just see the boy in me? You walk on by and hug the girl with no legs and you’re both grinning now, and I walk home and I can’t stop crying, and for the first time I can remember, my legs don’t hurt anymore.