left you behind, minutes ago." She cleared her throat. "I heard him talking
about the last bit of help he thought he needed." She shrugged a tiny affair.
"This may have been a sign that allowed him to muster that final surge of
courage most of us need to complete a difficult journey. In effect, we
cajoled him to keep his appointment. We're a naturally good team."
"It's possible he was a clever junky, or a drunk. You checked his
breath," I said, not grasping her interpretation of events.
Bonnie let go of my arm to gesture. "His manner showed us that he
knew he was no one's victim but his own. At some point, he thought he
had it all then lost it, because he thought 'it all' did not require the
maintenance of his care and concern. He had embraced things so tightly
that he squeezed the life out of them—the spirit behind what these things
represent. Since then, he has summoned the courage to start over, by
focusing his care and concern where he can, like maintaining dignity by
keeping himself presentable. This is the starting point of cleaning up one's
life, and to a man making that climb there are no little things. He
appreciates everything, as you so meticulously noted." She touched my
arm. "He didn‘t mention money directly; he asked for help, but he didn‘t
plead hunger or explain his circumstance, because he knew you wouldn‘t
have believed him."
"What other kind of help could he have been after?"
"Toothpaste or mouthwash; he covered his mouth because he was
conscious of his breath. His smile revealed good looking teeth."
"Uh huh."
"It‘s logical that he was preoccupied, because he was going to a job
interview," she continued, "and he wanted everything to be the best that it
could possibly be. You told him it wasn‘t worth the effort. I told him it
was worth everything I had for him to get the last of the little things he
needed on this day."
"What's courageous about washing?" I scoffed.
"His courage was evident in not pretending that his circumstance was
anything other than what it was. He wasn't apologetic, as if he was a lesser
man burdened with private failures, nor was he defiant, as if the world
owed him something." Bonnie shrugged. "He's no longer fearful, so he
doesn't need things to validate his self- worth."
"Good thing," I chuckled.
"His physical poverty," Bonnie said, with a disapproving glance,
"caused him to see through the superficiality of the world. Now he is not a
poor man, no matter how little he has." Speaking to a spot on the s idewalk,
"If he was an ordinary man," she said enigmatically, "he would make it
