I was walking along the underpass at Outram MRT lost in my own thoughts when a man in wheelchair waved me over and meekly asked if I could wheel him to the toilet and then to the train to Raffles Place. It was such a specifically odd request but since I've all the time in the world, and quite frankly was happy to have the distraction, I obliged.
We talked about life. I asked about his, he asked about mine. And for some reason or another I felt absolutely comfortable pouring out my heart to this stranger. It just came out. All of it. Maybe it's because his life seems to be more unfortunate in comparison.
He turned back with some difficulty to catch my eye.
"I have cerebral palsy," he said, gesturing to his form, as if he had read my thoughts.
I felt a little embarrassed.
"I've been this way all my life. Not enough oxygen to the brain. Brain haywire. But others are more unfortunate than me. I've got a life. I'm happy. Sometimes you must see life in a...." He made a gesture with his hands to signify 'balance'. "Life not always bad. Got good, got bad. Must take both in stride."
A man who never knew how the ground feels like under his feet just told me to suck it up and take it in stride. I'm humbled.
This man is my hero. His name is Victor.