I looked up from my right and I saw him on my left. He stood along the hospital wall. His cap was cocked. His coat was dirty. His clothes were torn. His face was unshaven. His mouth is nearly empty yet his fist was full. He gripped his pack of gum and each Thursday he stops near my chair and offers me a piece.
I wrote of our introduction and now our encounter has become our ritual. Each Thursday he offers me a stick of gum. Each Thursday I take it from him and I express my gratitude and then we wish each other well. Each Thursday he says my name aloud with a reverence I haven’t earned and I do not deserve. Each Thursday I say his name aloud so that he can hear it on the lips of one human being each week. I shake his hand so that he can feel the touch of a one human being each week. And I express joy and suppress my sadness so that he can see one smile each week.
I tell myself each Thursday that it will be the last time that I’ll volunteer. I count my cash and I see my bills and I know I can’t afford to continue. Yet I recognize the synchronicity of Divinity and I know that I’ve been placed in his path. People look for higher purposes yet I propose that perhaps we’re meant for the smallest of tasks. Maybe I’m merely meant to take his gum and remind him that he’s not forgotten.
Because I haven’t forgotten him. I look for him each Thursday. He reminds me that I’m not alone. I take his gum because he just wants to give something to someone. He reminds me that I’m doing something. We’re brothers. He doesn’t know that I need him as much as he needs me. He needs to know he belongs. I need to know I’m just not going along.
December 19, 2007
