Mr. Willard had had a terrible day and was done. His morning had proven that. It started when he had woken up at 7:00 instead of 6:00. His alarm clock had gone off in the middle of the night due to his electric bill not being paid. It was the beginning of the month and he had no money. He wouldn't have any till next week. So with a heavy heart he pulled his old age worn body out of his cricked old bed, popping his bed as he did so. He hobbled over to his bathroom and started a shower.
Apparently Mrs. Willard had used all the hot water and left Mr. Willard in the cold. Just as he was rinsing the shampoo from his thinning hair, the water shut off, just like the electricity. Grumbling things children shouldn't hear, he toweled off and went to find some cloths. As he hampered through his closet he saw the cloths he had to wash were still dirty. Angrily he threw on some relatively clean cloths and headed out the door without breakfast, knowing he was running late.
Mr. Willard thought of all the things he had to do as he passed through the check station and through the train station. He made his way to the platform where the bullet train would take him at somewhere between 150-200 miles per hour to get into the city in less than 15 minutes.
On the train to work, Mr. Willard sat on the seat trying to get some more sleep. An old man and a young man entered taking seats to the opposite Mr. Willard. The younger man had sunglasses on, the old man sat next to the younger.
His eyes were tired, his cloths were ripped and tore, and his face was covered in dirt, but had an everlasting smile. The younger had an old purple shirt with black jeans on. The cloths were also bleached stained and covered in dirt, but he had a smile on his face.
He grabbed the younger by his arm and led him into a seat. There he just smiled. Slightly, Mr. Willard could see tears fall down the man's face. He didn't care though. He was too unhappy and crabby to think about the crying man. His problems were no concern to Mr. Willard.
Mr. Willard's week had gotten no better. He was allowed to have his water on till he could pay the bill the next week. So until then he had to keep pushing through to the end, and he would be able to go another month. He boarded the train again for the 3rd time that week marking it Wednesday. He heaved a sigh and again and wondered why his life was so bad, why were all these horrible things happening to him?
"Why must I be the one to have this unluckiness fall upon me? I am a veteran and I have worked the hardest I could for everything I have! What must I do to get all this foulness away from me?"
Mr. Willard was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn't even notice the other passengers or the fact the train was now moving. He was interrupted when he noticed a young man he thought he had seen before. In the very same cloths he was wearing except now he wore a name tag that read
"Hello. My name is ANDY" written as though a child might have got a hold of a Sharpie.
Andy was acting strange. He was marveling at the ticket counter, at the pattern on the seats, at the ground and at the people. He fixed his eyes on the seats and followed the older man to sit. He took the window seat and pressed his hands on the window as a small child might do when looking at an animal at the zoo.
If he could have seen Andy's face he would have pictured one of marvel and of pure astonishment.
"Look dad! The trees are running! The sun is flying with us!" Andy had stated while staring at the sky. The clouds are white!" To Mr. Willard, it was outrageous! How could this grown adult even think something so immature? Without thinking he spoke to the older man, not even trying to hide the disgust in his voice.
"Sir, do you mind keeping your "child" He added with distance "on a leash, He is rather annoying." Just as he finished his statement, Mr. Willard relished the man might be mentally retarded. The older man just smiled.
"This is my son, Andy. He was born blind; we are leaving the hospital right now. He had a surgery where he can see finally." The older man started to cry. Andy stared at his dad trying to figure out why there was water spilling from his eyes.
Mr. Willard froze. How could he not think of it before? Why had he been so quick to be so senile to the man and his son? Was he so cold hearted that he had no feel for the emotions of other humans? Why had he been so quick to judge? Is he the only one who would have made the assumption?
Mr. Willard looked around the train car and had decided no. He was not the only one. He was just the only one to voice his judgment. Upon this discovery, he turned back to Andy. The child was staring at him. His eyes were a nice sky blue, with so much more wisdom in them than one might think possible.
" It's alright. Everything is gonna be alright."
Mr. Willard did something he had not done in a long time,