The old man carried a large bag over his shoulder and he
was staggering under its weight. I had been watching him for several days and
the bundle seems to have gotten bigger and bigger since I first saw him. The
bursting bag was well-worn, furls of weaving strained at the seams.
I had just made a fresh pot of coffee and had two warm
cinnamon rolls from the bakery across the street. I put a thermos of coffee and the two rolls and some
napkins, a tablecloth and a few packets of sugar into a bag and walked down
from my flat into the street towards the man with a bag. He had stopped in an alley to rest up
from his heavy load and was sitting on a packing crate.
“Say", I said, “I hope you don’t mind but I have been watching
you the past couple of days and wonder if you would like to join me for coffee
and a roll?”
“Mighty nice of you, Miss, I could use the pep up to
continue my walk. It has been a
long morning.”
He was dressed in well-worn brown fire hose canvas pants
patched at the knees, stained in oil, a tattered quilt jacket over two moth
eaten wool sweaters and tweed flat cap.
I laid out a tablecloth and poured two cups of steaming
coffee, then placeed two tin plates with cinnamon rolls on them. The vagabond seemed pleased.
“Sugar?” I asked.
“Two packets please,” he said.
I stirred the coffee and handed it to him.
“I am curious”, I said, “It isn’t polite to ask but I have
been wondering what have you been carrying around in that huge bag.“
“Full of dreams,” he said.
“Dreams?”
“Yes, and the load gets heaver and heavier. Because I just
keep adding to them.”
"Can’t you get rid of them?"
"I had the opportunity a long time ago to act on them but I
kept putting them off, saying someday…Now I am burdened with the weight of
them."
"I am sorry."
"So all I have to say, Miss, is to act on your own dreams now or
you will be burdened with them for the rest of your life."
We finished our coffee in silence.
“Well," he says getting up from his crate, throwing the hug
bundle on his back, “have to be on
my way now. I have a life time to
walk.”
I watched him until he disappeared down the street. I never saw him again.
What a wonderful watercolor--and a poignant fable. Your point is well taken. Thanks.
ReplyDelete