The Drifter

There are those moments in life when you are faced with a decision.  This decision will change the course of your life forever.  We face decisions every day such as what shirt to wear to work, but nothing about that decision has much importance.  My life wouldn’t be different whether I wear a blue polo or white button up.

A few years ago, I faced a different kind of decision, one that had real importance.  I had recently lost my job working at the bank.  Due to my lack of a college education, my options were limited.  No one was hiring at the time.  Soon, letters arrived at my house saying they were about to turn off my electricity, or my gas, or my water.  I barely had enough money to feed my family, but even that was becoming difficult.

I didn’t know what to do.  I needed money, and it seemed as though I had no other options.

Early one morning, I arrived at the gas station.  I didn’t need gas.  My car was full.  I sat in the parking lot running through my plan, occasionally glancing over at the bag sitting in the passenger seat.

The car continued to run while I remained in thought.  Fear filled my mind as I began to imagine what would happen if I wasn’t successful, if I was caught.  My children would be without a father, my wife without a husband.  My trembling hands reached down to put the car in reverse.  Maybe I could back out of this.

But I left it in park.  This was my only hope of providing for my family.

The moment had come.  I reached into the bag to prepare myself for what I was about to do, but before I pulled the gun out, I paused for one last moment.  Is this what I had become?  A thief?  A tear began to fall down my cheek when I heard a tap on my window.

I saw a silhouette of an old man, his features darkened by the morning sun shining around him.  I shifted in my seat to see him better.  Judging by his appearance and the sign he held in his hand, the man was a drifter.  He wore ragged clothes, dull and dirty from overuse.  His yellow fingernails looked as though they hadn’t been trimmed in years.

He tapped on the window again and spoke, but I couldn’t understand his muffled voice.  I rolled down the window to hear him better, only to catch my first real glimpse of the drifter’s face.  He had a thick beard, colored from what seemed to be leftovers of past meals.  The hair on his head was dirty and matted.  I could tell it had been a scarlet color at one time but now was worn out from time.  As I looked at him my eyes moved to meet his.  He smiled a radiant smile, bright and pure unlike the rest of him.

“Young man, would you happen to have any spare change?”  he asked me.

I simply shook my head.  Money was the last thing I could afford to provide him.  I began to roll up the window when he put out his hand to stop it.  My already racing heart began to beat even faster.  What was this man about to do?  I could protect myself if needed, but then he spoke again.

“I know why you’re here,” he uttered.

How could he know?  More tears fell down my face.  With fragmented words I tried to tell him my story.  I can’t explain why I needed to explain myself to him, I didn’t know the man.  There was just something about him that made me feel a sense of peace for the first time in weeks.

Before I could finish my first sentence, he stopped me and said, “I know, son.”  He then looked at me the way a father looks at his child, smiled his beautiful smile, and reached into his pocket.  The old man pulled out an envelope and held it out for me.

“Take it,” he said.  “This should help.”

I took it from his hands and opened pulled open the seal.  Inside the envelope was full of money.

I couldn’t take it.  I might have needed the money, but I would feel terrible taking money from a homeless man.  Before I could refuse his help, I looked up to see he was gone.  I stepped out of my car to search for him, but he was nowhere near.  It was as if he was a ghost, here one second and gone the next.  Overwhelmed from everything that just occurred, I fell to my knees and began sobbing.

The money was enough to cover me for two months, and during that time I found another job.  I haven’t seen the old man since that day, and I doubt I ever will.  But I’ll never forget him.  He saved my life.