More Like Him

Kind Eyes

When I was younger, I crossed paths with an old man.

I had never seen him in town before, and yet he seemed familiar to me.

He was a distinguished gentleman, and I felt like a small child as we walked towards each other.

His stride was determined as his long coat flapped against his legs.

I had no stride at all but was merely placing one foot in front of the other.

White stubble covered his chin, accentuating his jaw and neck.

I felt the cold autumn wind touch my face and soft cheeks.

For only a second, our gaze met as he crossed the road and looked back at me.

He had kind eyes.

Later that day, I wondered where that man had been headed.

Maybe he was going somewhere to help someone.

He probably was very wise and virtuous.

He probably wanted to do what was right and selfless.

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to be a light to those around him.

I thought about the feats he must have accomplished to carry himself with such confidence and the empathy and grace that must fill him to show such a gentle expression on his face.

And, as I thought about it, I decided I wanted to be just a little bit more like this gentleman with the kind eyes.