The Black Plastic Bag

As I was stopped at a traffic light under the by-pass, he turned the corner and I spotted him. He was wearing a torn button up shirt and torn jeans that were made to look like bermuda shorts except that one leg was longer than the other. He had grey hair and somewhat of a full grown beard which meant that he hadn´t groomed in a while. What called my attention as I observed him was that he had no shoes on his feet. It was cold and it had rained the night before and there he was walking on that sidewalk barefoot.

In his hands he was carrying a black plastic garbage bag. What called my attention was that he was carrying that bag with so much care. It seemed like he was protecting that bag with all his might, like he was carrying some kind of treasure, something very precious to him.

When he was somewhat closer to my car three younger boys approached him and grabbed his bag and ran throwing it to one another as if it were a basketball. They laughed and tossed the bag back and forth while running.

The old man panicked and started to scream. However, no one helped him. No one tried to stop the boys after all it was just a garbage bag. He tried to run after the boys but the boys were too fast. He gave up and sat on the curb and cried. So much sadness flowed through his tears.

The boys headed in the same direction that I was heading so I drove slowly after them. I didn´t know whether they were armed or not, so I didn´t want to take any chances.

The group of delinquents stopped near a gas station and looked into the bag to see what they had gotten. Since it was near a gas station, I also stopped and filled up the tank but always keeping an eye at them.

They opened the bag, looked in and tossed it into a bush nearby and left. Somewhat frustrated they walked away in hunt of their next victim.

I cautiously walked over to the bush and slowly picked up the bag. I took it to my car and placed on the passenger seat next to me. I didn´t dare look in the bag, it didn´t belong to me. I was already late for work, so I decided to go back to where I had last seen the old man and return his bag. I was in luck, he was still there sobbing away like a little boy. So much pain.

-      Excuse me sir. Is this your bag?

I showed him the bag. He rubbed his eyes and smiled.

-      Oh my goodness, it can´t be. Where did you find it?

He took the bag and looked in.

- I don´t know if everything is there. I saw what had happened to you and also saw when the boys tossed it. I didn´t look in it, though.

- Thank you. Thank you.( He looked in the bag.) It is still here. How can I repay you?

         - There is no need for that sir. But if you don´t mind my asking, what is in the bag that made you cry so much?

        -The best thing in the world.

He pulled out a worn-out black and white photo of a quite beautiful woman.

        -This is my mother. She passed away several years ago. When my house burned down it was the only thing that stayed intact and I carry it with me everywhere to remind me of the only person who really loved me. It sooths my heart and keeps me going. She was a very brave woman and taught me that even when the situation looks bad, there is hope and we must have faith that better days will come.

My eyes started to well up. There sitting on the curb in front of me was a man in torn worn-out clothing and no shoes who had nothing but a photograph of his deceased mother talking about hope and faith and love.

-      On second thought, there is one way you can repay me for returning your bag.

-      Yes, it would make me very happy.

-      Let me buy you some breakfast. Please get in my car.

He smiled got up, turned to me, placed his hand on my shoulder and said:

-      You see, mother was right.

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(Written October 22, 2012)