There's Dew On The Ground~posted Nov 3rd 2009, 8:54PM
Mood:
So I had a long day. My sisters were to walk to Barnes&Noble after school at 3:00, while I stayed until around 4 something for Studio Art Class.
So I'm walking, carrying this easel case, my backpack, happy to get to go there and read, and maybe buy something, and then I try to take a shortcut, take like a five minute detour, then get on the right track.
Right before I make a turn up the hill, like half a mile away from school, I see this homeless man wearing a baggy sweatshirt, dirty jeans, and a Yankee's cap holding up a sign that says: Homeless, Need Help, Thank You.
Instantly I remember that my dad had packed me an extra sandwich and I had left a granola bar to go with that. I walk up to the man, while the traffic is ignoring him, driving by the stoplight.
"Do you want some food?" I ask, setting my easel case on the ground, behind me with my backpack in front so he can't steal anything.
He leans forward, he's dirty, and somewhat gruff, with a southern accent. He says yeah. What do you got?
"I have a...PB&J sandwich and a granola bar," I say happily, pulling them out of my lunch pail.
I hand them to him and he puts them in his sweater pocket.
"Have you gone to any of the Shelters around here...?" I ask as more traffic zooms by.
He says no, he's not from around here. I put my hand on his shoulder, smile, and say goodbye. And he thanks me.
So I walk away feeling pretty good, I love it when I get to help people like that, and I turn at the stoplight, and head up the hill. Before I'm even halfway up it, on the other side is Barnes&Noble, something slips into my mind. Something I remembered before I even gave him the food.
I had twenty dollars in my backpack.
"Give the man the five." Something tells me.
I wanted to give him twenty, but then I told myself he could possibly buy something unnecessary like cigarettes. I pull out my bag and wrench out the five, and race back to the corner.
"Sir," I say loudly over the traffic, I walk up and put the five in his hand. "God put it on my heart to give this to you," I say to him. He smiles, this older man, gruff and unshaven.
He thanks me graciously, and I hold my things in front of me, my disheveled hair covering my awkward yet happy smile. "Please...please don't use it to buy anything you don't need, like cigarettes," I beg, "maybe you can use it to take a taxi, and ask directions to a shelter."
He speaks in agreement.
He asks my name.
"My name's Angelica," I say with courtesy, the slight idea of lying to him, making up my name came across, and I hesitated, but I just spat it out anyway.
"My name's Ed," he says, holding out his clenched fist. He had a faded tattoo on his tanned skin.
"Ed Mac?" I asked, I though he had said that.
He says his name louder. We fist bump.
"I hope you find a job," I say. "I will," he replies, smiling.
I say goodbye. And walk away.
God works in mysterious ways.
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