on being nice

I was sitting outside, eating my yogurt and granola lunch, when a rumpled-looking old man planted himself directly in front of me. I looked up begrudgingly, annoyance flickering across my face, and took in his dirty complexion and the baggy clothes that hung several sizes too big from his fragrant frame.

He was seconds away from asking for money.

"No, I don't have any cash on me," I said before he could finish his question. This was true.

He turned and shuffled away, moving with slow stooped shoulders into the neighboring store.

My heart sank as I watched him go, and I rebuked myself for such callousness.

It's habit, years of conditioning, and sometimes a very reasonable response to such requests. Digging into your wallet isn't always the best way to help someone.

But compassion? Courtesy? They're always in.

I got up from the bench, tossed my lunch into the trash can, and followed through the doorway the old man had entered. I searched up and down the store aisles, hoping to find him.

I didn't.

As I made my way back toward the exit, still scanning the crowd of shoppers, I came to a stop and strained my ears to hear Jewel's familiar tune playing faintly in the background..

"In the end, only kindness matters ..."

Lesson (re)learned.