The Man in Orange
I usually do not speak to strangers. I do not exchange numbers with them, and I certainly do not give them rides. That is my rule.
But sometimes a conversation begins before you realize you have stepped into one.
He had recently come out of jail, and there was an excitement about him that surprised me. He spoke with such gratitude about being free again—about being able to choose what to eat and decide what to do. I listened, thinking how easily those freedoms become ordinary to the rest of us.
I wondered aloud whether people ate well inside. He explained in the affirmative and nodding their heads back and write. So I imagined meals and essentials are free but you could buy your stuff if you wanted.Even in a difficult place, people found ways to get by.
What stayed with me was not only his enthusiasm. It was the way he spoke about his family. He did not blame his siblings for doing well while he struggled. He spoke proudly of them—one working in aviation, another out at sea. There was no bitterness in his voice, only admiration.
He knew the Bible, too. I had not expected that. As he spoke, I found myself listening more closely. Here was a man who had been through hardship, yet he did not speak as though the world owed him something. He could recognize what others had achieved without turning their success into an accusation against them.
Then he asked me for a ride.
I declined. I told him I could not do that; it was not something I was able to do. I kept my boundary, even as I continued listening.
The encounter reminded me that gratitude can appear in places we might not expect. A person can leave jail and feel thankful for freedoms many of us barely notice. A person can struggle without resenting everyone who is doing better. A person can know hardship without deciding that life owes him a reward.
I drove away thinking about how many kinds of confinement people carry. Some are behind walls. Others are trapped by anger, envy, regret, or the belief that someone else’s blessings have taken something away from them.
That day, the man taught me to notice what I take for granted—and to remember that another person’s progress does not have to become my pain.
By Joan Roberts
