The man at the gate

It was a Tuesday Morning, a Beautiful day, though not all could see it, but all could appreciate. I sat comfortably restrained at the passenger's side of the shuttle- like it was my private car, no one dragging the space with me, except the driver. There he stood at the gate, Shades over his eyes and cane in his hand, the tall man aging just fine, flagged down the car, asked to be taken to the bank. The driver agreed and just as the man was getting to the car, he drove off. I could only ask why, 

 "why did you leave him?"

" I no fit go that side"

 The man from the gate obviously needed help. I wondered what composite was the driver's heart made of maybe a mixture of stone and carbon fibre,  maybe  graphene and copper, maybe steel and concrete or maybe a composite of all of them. Then it hit me. I kept on thinking, fuming, pitying, but I never took a step, I had the option of giving the driver a bitter pill of words but I didn't, I would as well have insisted he picked the man, I didn't, I would have dropped and offered my assistance, but I sat there and did nothing. I definitely got over it but not without a thorough beating from my conscience.

How often do we feel without acting, what load of unexpressed feelings do we carry, how do we get through d night knowing we should have said something but kept mum, knowing we should have reached out but held back. Most times, we never get the chance again, and opportunities slip away because we didn't act according to the desires of our heart or according to rightful thinking. How would that man have known I felt bad, I wanted to help, that I wasn't vain, if I didn't reach out. Sometimes it hurts us forever, sometimes we can't retrace those steps. But we can begin afresh, to declare our love, to declare our support, to give a helping hand and to speak words that reflect our thoughts.
I got my chance back, not with the man at the gate, but with YOU whom I tell my thoughts exactly.