Too many errands, too little time! Good thing there was parking right in front of the store. I pulled my car next to the curb and darted inside out of the bitter Philadelphia cold.
My life had gotten so hectic lately it was hard to believe that I’d once had time to volunteer at my church. Days like this I used to go around to shelters and to the cardboard-box villages that had sprung up in the city’s alleyways, giving out hot stew, bread, maybe a word of encouragement or prayer.
Did it make a difference? I didn’t know, but at least I tried.
I finished my shopping and ran back out to my car. A meter man was waiting, ticket pad in hand. Oh, no! I’d forgotten to feed the parking meter.
“Please don’t write me a ticket,” I said. “I’ll move the car right now.”
“I wasn’t going to,” he said. “In fact, I was standing here to make sure no one else did, either.”
“Thanks,” I said, a bit puzzled.
“You don’t remember me, do you? I remember you. I used to be homeless. You treated me like a real person and always had a kind word. This is my way of saying thanks.”
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