Yesterday afternoon, barely five weeks into recovery from surgery, I ventured all to the off-leash park along Dallas Road. The trusty dog could finally roam to wherever his nose desired.
Approaching the public shelter at Finlayson Point, we came upon a shopping cart piled sky-high with bags of empty cans and bottles. On top, among the odds and ends, a bicycle frame with a wheel missing. Below and behind, barely visible, a man’s legs: someone was bedding down in the shadow of a day’s work.
Drawing a five-dollar bill from my back pocket, I offered a cautious “Hello?” and out popped a face: weathered, tooth-gapped, big smile. “For breakfast tomorrow morning,” I proposed and he accepted politely. No fuss.
Throughout this brief encounter we held each other with kind curiosity. Nothing got in the way. No well-to-do home owner meeting a homeless scavenger, no this or that. Just this precious moment. It reminded me of a line in a Zen meal chant about “the emptiness of the three wheels: giver, receiver, and gift.” How wonderful is that!
I like this story, Peter. I’m glad your getting around again. The emptiness of the man, the dog, and the leash. Be well! Arnie