a flower withered

The first time I met him he was face down in the grass with his own saliva puddling beneath him. He eventually stood up and staggered over to me so that I might serve him food. His wife was angry with him for passing out. She vented to me as she braided my hair with her rough hands. Her words were sharp, but I felt her devotion to him. The second time I met him, he came up behind me and reached down to give me a hug. My lack of familiarity caused me to cringe as I wasn't quite sure if it was going to be a choke hold or a hug. That's the day I began to develop trust. Our third meeting, I found him crumpled up as a child, sobbing, soiled, but not entirely intoxicated to the point he wasn't aware. My heart went out to him. I sat beside him on a park bench with food and kind words. I let him use my cell phone to call his wife. When their conversation was over she wanted to talk to me...she just wanted to know if he was alright. She was at her little part-time job and he was lonely for her. She was his strength. There have been occasions when my daughter has accompanied me to feed the homeless so when her ambulance received a call to take a man to hospice, she recognized their faces. He is dying of liver failure and his wife is by his side. I am reminded of how small the world is and just how often our paths cross, and for me, it's in the most unlikely places. I'm convinced none of this is by accident. I cannot tell you everything I have discovered about myself (and others) just by looking past the dirt and the alcoholism. I have learned the true value of a simple quarter. I have learned to see beauty in a smile with no teeth. I have learned to abort judgment and rely on instinct. I have learned that unconditional love has many obstacles. I have learned that I really can shop and cook for 40 people in less than two hours for under $20 every time. I have also learned that men with opposite status can die in the same hospice room. There is much irony in life.