I Woke Up This Morning

A guy rolled past me one morning, nonchalantly pushing himself along in his wheelchair. He had a tattoo just below his eye. curly hair and an expression of possible content on his face. I'd have offered to assist him, but I've seen him on numerous occasions. He's fine with his disability. He keeps moving, as if floating through his own sculpted liquid reality in which he's the only individual capable of nodding his head to the tunes he alone hears. He appears to be confident, driven and out-going.
The only things that stand out regarding this picture is the fact that it was freezing outside, snowing, and a wicked wind was blowing in multiple directions at once. This guy has only one arm and one leg. And yet he's incarcerated, allowed to push himself along through a blizzard.
"What could he have possibly done?" I asked myself. "Who could he be a threat to?" My goodness, I thought to myself.
I hear complaints. I see miserable expressions on the faces of men who's limbs are all in tact. Who's organs and joints all function properly. And though I was born in December, I can't stand the cold. But if I had one complaint; if I'd planned on balling my face up as i trudged to the eating area, known as the 'Chow Hall," that day, those plans were crushed as I stared at the man, one of my previous room mates had once offensively called 'Half-a-Body.'
I was amazed at the look on this disabled man's face, the drive in his eyes, his obvious belief in things better to come.
This experience forced me to reflect upon the great blessing that had been bestowed upon me that day.
"Man," I told myself... "I woke up this morning. . ., fully functional."
DON'T STOP! DON'T YOU DARE STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!