Weathered man

I took the shuttle bus from my apartment to the Airport today, and was introduced to our bus driver. A rather nondescript man in his mid forties, hair laced with silver, back bent. He was wearing a well loved, somewhat faded blue flannel vest, it suited him, it seemed almost like an extension of him. He smiled as he helped me with my bags, his movements were slow and rather laboured. He looked like a dad, friendly eyes, framed generously by a littering of crows feet, souvenirs from a life of laughing, a life well lived. His arms were thick and sturdy, moulded into that shape by hard manual work. It was to him perhaps just another uneventful day, going about his work, ploddingly, diligently, uncomplainingly, showing strangers a kindness here, a courtesy there. There was a quiet dignity to it all that rather touched me ~