Anticipation..

Every detail was so vivid that morning..

He stood there at the corner of King and Dufferin amidst the morning commuters with their iPods, lattes and frustrated expressions. I observed him from my vantage point on the King Streetcar. He shook visibly. His jacket was just a bit too big, his pants a bit too short, his shoes worn and misshapen by another man's feet. Though his hands struggled to cooperate, his face was set with determination as he fought to open the slippery plastic packaging of a five-dollar ice cream bar. It may have taken him hours to beg the money toward its purchase. The juxtaposition was striking: pure decadence clutched in a trembling hand against a backdrop of need. I wondered what had been the last thing that he'd eaten and how long it had been.

There was a desperation about his eyes and I noted my own sense of panic, so afraid that, after all of his effort, he would drop the bar to the sidewalk without ever savouring a bite. Time was suspended while I watched, silently cheering him to victory.

And there it was.

The defiant hands overtaken.

The slick packaging conquered.

The ice cream revealed.

Even before he allowed himself his indulgence he reached to discard the plastic wrapper in the trash bin next to him. It was the sort that is divided into three separate receptacles for trash, plastic and paper. An elderly woman approached to dispose of her own litter in the same moment and from the scowl on her face it was apparent that she was scolding him for placing his garbage where the bottles belonged. She was oblivious to the struggle that had let up to the moment. She had no idea that getting the wrapper into the bin at all was a coup.

She was clearly perturbed.

He stared back in disbelief, the reward of his efforts slighted by her anger.

He turned from her and took the first bite he had been so painfully anticipating.

I wondered if it tasted as good as he had hoped.

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