Life Lessons From My Lunch With a Homeless Man
My dinner guest taught me more about myself than I ever expected
Jim had long and messy hair. A blue pair of shorts covered his lengthy and skinny legs. His dusty face and hands reminded me of a member of my extended family, whose grooming skills weren’t necessarily admirable.
He had a flat stomach and dirty nails, like those one gains when there’s no money for food or water for a shower.
As I walked past the parking lot, my eyes witnessed the cruel scene. There was a sickening smell of motor oil and feces. A couple of big black dogs lurked while he and his friend, sitting on the ground, inspected their toenails.
My eyes couldn’t believe how comfortable and happy they seemed to be in that corner. I was amused to hear more laughter from them than I had the entire day.
I wanted to walk away. Not the right time, I told myself. You have a nice Chianti waiting at home. But there was something about him, about his smile, and the way he enjoyed that moment with his friend, that made it impossible to head away. Having somewhere to go, something to put in my stomach, made me feel guilty.
Where do you go with somebody barefoot? Would he want to sit indoors or…
