I took quite the carefree walk today, bouncing jauntily with every step until I got to the main road. Now if you know me, you know how I am with crossing the road. Now if you don’t, let’s just say I’d rather walk a mile in 7-inch stilettos if it meant I would get to avoid crossing the road. And don’t let me even get started on how I am about wearing heels (a word I comfortably define as anything higher than flats). But hey, I digress.
When I’m crossing the road, I usually pour all of me into it. I put every other thing on hold. Phone calls, texts, memes, you name it. I keep my eyes darting both ways (because some drivers are crazy enough to drive against traffic). In the midst of all that, I notice this hunched old lady with a walking stick trying to cross the road. People keep brushing right past her, hurtling across the road and going their way. I stand by her side, hoping to God that I can figure out a way to get her(and myself) safely across the road. 
Now, anyone who knows me knows that when crossing the road, I spend a good 30 seconds (sometimes more) squealing like a lost baby goat. Every move of every car gets me all nervous. So picture this, here I am, by the road, a nervous wreck intending to help somebody else across the road. At the last minute, help comes in a scrawny middle aged man who holds the old lady’s frail hands in one of his while using the other hand to plead with motorists to stop. A couple of them drive right past but a few eventually stop. Both of them (and myself, thank heavens) get to the other side unscathed. He lets go of her hand and brushes off her sincere thanks. 
With one last look at the pair, I turn around and go my way with a huge grin on my face. Don’t lose hope just yet folks. We still have beautiful people.