-split-
We approach a crosswalk right as the light turns green, and without thinking, I start crossing it. Crosswalks are dangerous. If one were to walk when the light is red, an automobile could come screeching down the road and run them over. Realizing this, I peer over my shoulder again to confirm that the boy is still behind me. He is farther away now. More specifically, he is standing on the edge of the sidewalk, staring at me with a bothered expression. Is he afraid to cross the street? I look both ways to make sure that there are no automobiles coming, and then I motion him to come. I can make out his legs squirming slightly. Sighing, I stride back to the boy.“Come on.” I take his hand and usher him to move. Thankfully, the stoplight is still green, so we hurry across the street. As we step onto the opposite sidewalk, the boy almost trips, despite his overly contrasting posture. It occurs to me that hand-holding is not something to be overdone, and I wonder just how long is too long for the boy to feel uncomfortable. Deciding not to risk it, I let go of his hand and look around. To our right is the corner of the street, and a McDonald's, with its “M” sign towering even the streetlights.“It's this way.” I point at the restaurant.The boy's head slowly tilts up towards the top of the sign, and I look up too. I admit, it is a little intimidating even for me. Just a sign in the middle of nowhere that rises higher than the actual building it's meant to represent. I can't imagine how intimidating it must be for the boy. But even so, if I can buy something as simple as a burger, I'm sure it'll be a big help to him.“Is it scary?”He nods.“Indeed, it is.”We gaze at the sign for a little while longer.“Are you ready to go in?”He looks at me and nods again, in the same manner and fashion.I guide him through the parking lot and its faded yellow paint, and up to the front door. Opening it, a blast of warm air hits us in the face. It suggests neither a welcoming or repelling ambiance.“Sit down over there.” I point to a nearby table next to a window with a giant poster ad, and make my way up to the front counter. There are no other customers in line, and there are only two tables apparently preoccupied. It will result in a swift transaction. I look up at the menu above the counter. Something sizable should be ample enough.“One burger meal, please.”I dig into my coat pocket and pull out my wallet. Just as I reach for a bill, I realize that in order to do this, I have to sacrifice a meal of my own.A meal that is impossible to earn.A large portion of food; breakfast, lunch, or dinner. One of those will be gone for a day. I will be giving one of those meals to someone else.I look at my hand. It has already grabbed onto a bill on its own.I have no job, and no way of gaining this money back. Once it is gone, it is gone. I have not eaten lunch today. This could be for me. Uncertainty takes over my thoughts and I glance at the boy. He is looking at me, not interested in the world outside through the windows, but in me. I take a deep breath, and then I take the bill out of the wallet, not due to guilt, but due to deference. As I hand the bill over to the cashier, I feel as if a part of me is being torn away. However, it makes me feel a little better to know that the part of me being taken is going to be given to someone who needs it more than I do.I grab the cup that the cashier put on the counter and go up to the drink machine. I don't think soda pop would be a good choice for him, so I fill it up to the brim with water. The boy curiously eyes me as I walk back to the table, presumably wondering what was going on.“Don't worry.” I reassure him. “The food will be ready in a moment.”I hold the cup of water out to him. He looks at it, and then to me. I guess he's not used to being given things. I set the cup down on the table instead, to show that it is indeed for him. He doesn't touch it. A few seconds pass and I start to wonder if he is going to drink it or not, and then he finally does.I hear the cashier shout the order number, and I react by hastily walking up to the counter as if my life depended on it. I do not know why I suddenly felt such adrenaline, but it gradually recedes as I return with the tray. The boy does not look have a particularly hopeful or happy expression, and it rather pains me so, as though I had done all of this for naught. And I remind myself that my efforts are to help him live a day longer, not to make him happy.I sit down opposite of him. He unhurriedly removes the burger from its wrapping and bites into it. With slow movements, it doesn’t seem as if he is very hungry and actually, very cold. Even his chewing is steady and protracted. He keeps his eye on the burger, letting it warm him up, and he periodically inserts a french fry into his mouth. The bright sunlight shines on his skin and causes it to appear a glossy gold, making his dirt spots look like dabs of premium moisturizer. I had expected the boy to devour the food much more quickly than this, yet I am strangely okay with how he is eating now. His rhythmic nibbling has a rough sensation to it. Maybe it is hard for him to move his jaw.I rest my chin on my hand and look out the window. The sun is threatening to float over the horizon, and many people are closing up shop. It's just like any other day for them. They will go home, sleep, and then re-open their business. For us, we can idle as long as we want. The boy can take the time to admire the taste; time to take in the sensation. There's no need to hurry. There's no need to comply with the rest of society. We have no place for it, just like how society has no place for us.Turning my head back to the boy, I ponder if he has thought about this, how not many people care for a tousled looking boy living in the middle of a park. What kind of thoughts does he have? Does he go about all day seeking for food?The boy takes a bite out of the burger that is twice as large as his previous bites and looks up at me. His brows are bent down and his face a serious one, that looks like it has seen many dark occurrences in the past. Surprisingly, he holds his half-eaten burger up towards my face, and I stare in disbelief. Even now, he is giving away a part of himself to others; selfless, despite his situation. He is offering a piece of his own life to me.I wave my hands in front of me in denial. He tries again to give the burger to me, stretching his arm even farther. Again, I reject him.“No, it's yours. Eat it.”He looks guiltily at the burger, which in turn, makes me feel guilty. Thankfully, he starts biting it again. I watch him eat all of his meal. After he puts the final piece of the burger into his mouth, he looks at me, as if asking me what to do next, and I return the gaze, asking the same question. My body knows the answer, however, and starts moving. Getting up is uncomfortable and feels like I am starting up an old and rusty piece of machinery. After I come back from returning the tray, the boy, holding his cup of water, gets up from the seat and we both exit the restaurant, the cold breeze inviting us once more. As we cross the street, I notice that he does not hesitate to step onto the crosswalk.Did he fear crossing the street earlier? If he did, then his effort now is commendable. He is a strong person, much stronger than I am. My limited resources could be his luxuries, yet he is managing to survive. Does he wonder about death? How he could yield to it any second of the day? It depresses me to think about how all of it is possible. Exhaustion, hunger, dehydration, and hypothermia all lurk behind his back, but it does not hinder his admirable posture, or his will to keep moving forward.I had thought about letting the boy live with me. I've already decided against it, but I still do not know if it would benefit him or not. It would be hard for me to support two people. It is hard to support myself even now, and I could be dooming us both if I were to take him in. But then I try to think of what will happen to the boy, and what he will do from this point on. I try and think, to come up with scenarios, only to shield myself from what is inevitable.I am a coward.We are returning to his home. I did not tell him, nor do I need to tell him. No words need to be spoken to understand that there is nowhere else to go, and nowhere else to stay. He must know that he will be alone again. How many people had he met before me, if any at all? Of all the times he might have been left by himself, I consider how he might have felt.Before I know it, we are in front of the grove of trees. The sunlight has dwindled and many areas of the grove have become invisible. Regardless, I start to see this place in a new light. The basket is still here, familiar and motherly. The air is a little humid, but it feels warm.I look at the boy. He glances around like how someone would after returning from a trip far-away, ready to hibernate in their bed. He turns to me, and I crouch down in acknowledgment. Life is unforgiving, and there are too many people of greater importance than us. But even though we are small; even though we are unimportant in the grand scale of things, the actions we take for each other can mean everything. He smiles slightly, something I haven't seen him do until now. It's a sweet smile, like a piece of candy you find after digging around in a purse. It's all the thanks I need.I ruffle his hair joyfully.He'll continue to live his life without me, and I'll continue to live mine. Hopefully, someone will be able to help him like I did. However, even if he does not have the strength to survive, he will have the strength to carry on even through death. I'm certain of it.I take off my winter coat and drape it around the boy's back. He delicately runs his fingers along its texture, making sure that it is really there. This is my parting gift. It may not be much, but it is something to help him get through the winter. As I stand up, I take one final look at the grove, and then the boy. He's smiling again, and I smile back.This is farewell.
It's kind of cold without my coat. The sun is projecting a sea of orange, yellow, and red across the sky, and it looks very easy to get lost in, to drown in the sunlight, to be overwhelmed by the vast expanse of space. It can be a terrifying feeling, or an unwinding feeling. We can’t have pumpkin pie every day. There are so many other activities we can do, so many other events we can experience. And here I am, wandering in the evening when I could be doing so many of those other things. I'll do everything one at a time, of course. After all, being unemployed, I have all the time in the world.