It was a cloudy Sunday morning at about 9 am. I was with my best friend Lauryn in her red mini Cooper car. It was so small, my head pressed against the top of the gray interior. She giggled at my state and told me there was a lever at the bottom of my seat. I was a tall girl, and was distracted reaching for the lever when out of the corner of my eye I saw him sitting on the side of the road. 

He was aged and lean. Maybe 60. Long gray beard, with deep, sad, lonely eyes, and a cap on his head stating he was a veteran.  He was just sitting there. As still as meek prey. He was an object of ridicule and shame to society.

 He timidly held up a ripped up cardboard sign stating that he needed help. The man did not specifically say whether he needed money, nor food, or anything to survive. He just needed help. Plain and simple. 

We pull through the line in the McDonald’s drive through and without a second thought we order a number 5 meal with an icy cold water. We forgot that we were here to eat for ourselves and plenish our bodies, but it really didn't seem to matter anymore. We pulled up to him. And held out the meal and water.

 The transfer of food from our hand to his was a feeling that I will carry forever on. It felt yellow, warm, comforting and sweet. Like honey trickling down your tea glass. My eyes were full of tears. Blue. But not the gloomy blue. The blue that fills the sky and allows the sun to shine through. The blue that fills ocean waters. He looked me in the eyes and said something I will never forget. 

“Thank you lord. God bless you child. Thank you, thank you.”

Smiling from ear to ear, I wiped my eyes and we drove away. It was raining.