then freeing a quarter and two dimes from the grasp of corner seams, she
handed him all the money she had.
His expression did not graze surprise, but went straight to
appreciation; he bowed his head minimally, thanked her quietly, and
humming a familiar tune stepped toward his intended destination with
purposeful strides, as if he had a business meeting.
Bonnie and I continued our walk toward the Denman Street Mall, my
aloofness dissipating with each step.
"You're in a good mood today," I said, boorishly.
"I am now," she said cheerfully, wiping at the corner of her eye.
"He'll probably hurt himself with that much cash," I ventured.
"I doubt it, but that's none of my business."
"Aren‘t you responsible if your generosity causes something crappy
to happen?"
"To give things with strings attached is not a gift. It's a judgement of
others to be less than you, when you have no idea what they may have
gone through to be where they are." She winked. "We didn't purchase the
right to tell him how to live."
A warm flush ran through me. "Why did you dig so deep? That‘s not
your usual way."
"Until today, whenever we've been approached for money we were on
our way home. I've always given whatever I can afford, which never
included a bribe." She glanced at me. "People cannot be coerced into
changing their ways, other than for show. They can only be confronted,
without judgement, into recognizing how they got where they are, and
only when they are ready to hear it." She chuckled to herself. "I was going
to hold onto ten dollars for my son, before I recognized you were literally
fulfilling that man's request. I had no choice but to give my all."
"Literally?" I said, confused.
"Did he not say that any little offer of help would get him back on his
feet today?"
"He did, and we gave him almost... no, exactly twenty bucks. That's
not enough to get anyone back on their feet. Probably the opposite," I
sniggered.
"The total wasn't important. It was the value of our gestures that
fulfilled his request." She squeezed my forearm. "You took him literally
and offered a little help, which repre sented a view that would keep him on
the streets if he believed he was worth loose change. My reference point
was that he was worth everything I had to help him get to where he had
planned on going, but a concern had distracted him. The metaphor behind
him losing focus was that he‘d lost his way," she chuckled, "just like I had
