A few weeks ago, I was rushing around trying to get some Valentine's Day
shopping done. I was stressed out and not thinking very fondly of the
weather right then. It was dark, cold, and wet in the parking lot as I was
loading my car up. I noticed that I was missing a receipt that I might need
later. So mumbling under my breath, I retraced my steps to the mall
entrance.
As I was searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt, I heard a quiet
sobbing.
The crying was coming from a poorly dressed boy of about 12 years old. He
was
short and thin. He had no coat. He was just wearing a ragged flannel shirt
to
protect him from the cold night's chill.
Oddly enough, he was holding a hundred dollar bill in his hand. Thinking
that
he had gotten lost from his parents, I asked him what was wrong. He told me
his
sad story. He said that he came from a large family. He had three brothers
and
four sisters. His father had died when he was nine years old. His mother
was
poorly educated and worked two full time jobs. She made very little to
support
her large family. Nevertheless, she had managed to skimp and save two
hundred
dollars to buy her children some Valentine's Day presents (since she didn't
manage to get them anything on Christmas).
The young boy had been dropped off, by his mother, on the way to her second
job. He was to use the money to buy presents for all his siblings and save
just
enough to take the bus home. He had not even entered the mall, when an
older
boy grabbed one of the hundred dollar bills and disappeared into the night.
"Why didn't you scream for help?" I asked.
The boy said, "I did."
"And nobody came to help you?" I queried.
The boy stared at the sidewalk and sadly shook his head.
"How loud did you scream?" I inquired.
The soft-spoken boy looked up and meekly whispered, "Help me!"
I realized absolutely no one could have heard that poor boy cry for help.
So I grabbed his other hundred and made a dash for my car.
kurby
shopping done. I was stressed out and not thinking very fondly of the
weather right then. It was dark, cold, and wet in the parking lot as I was
loading my car up. I noticed that I was missing a receipt that I might need
later. So mumbling under my breath, I retraced my steps to the mall
entrance.
As I was searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt, I heard a quiet
sobbing.
The crying was coming from a poorly dressed boy of about 12 years old. He
was
short and thin. He had no coat. He was just wearing a ragged flannel shirt
to
protect him from the cold night's chill.
Oddly enough, he was holding a hundred dollar bill in his hand. Thinking
that
he had gotten lost from his parents, I asked him what was wrong. He told me
his
sad story. He said that he came from a large family. He had three brothers
and
four sisters. His father had died when he was nine years old. His mother
was
poorly educated and worked two full time jobs. She made very little to
support
her large family. Nevertheless, she had managed to skimp and save two
hundred
dollars to buy her children some Valentine's Day presents (since she didn't
manage to get them anything on Christmas).
The young boy had been dropped off, by his mother, on the way to her second
job. He was to use the money to buy presents for all his siblings and save
just
enough to take the bus home. He had not even entered the mall, when an
older
boy grabbed one of the hundred dollar bills and disappeared into the night.
"Why didn't you scream for help?" I asked.
The boy said, "I did."
"And nobody came to help you?" I queried.
The boy stared at the sidewalk and sadly shook his head.
"How loud did you scream?" I inquired.
The soft-spoken boy looked up and meekly whispered, "Help me!"
I realized absolutely no one could have heard that poor boy cry for help.
So I grabbed his other hundred and made a dash for my car.
kurby