once gave a homeless man a starburst. A red one. I must
have been about eight years old. My mom and I were returning from a shopping trip
Uptown, and we got off the Canal Street exit of the ‘N’ subway line. The
subway slowed to a stop, the doors opened, and with a whole bunch of people, we headed
towards the exit of the station. There, a homeless man stood. I remember he
was pretty tall and dirty. He wasn’t begging for money or anything. He
just stood off to the side hunched over. We had to pass him to leave the
station. At that moment I was reaching in my pocket for a scrumptious morsel.
I pulled out the packet and to my amazement, the next starburst was red. My mouth
was already watering. I pulled out the red piece. At that moment, I decided to
give it to the man. I felt sorry for him. I don’t know why I did that,
but I wanted to.
From the look on my mom’s face. I thought I was going to get in trouble again. The man gently, reached down and graciously accepted the tasty treat and said, "Thank you." I smiled and turned to my mom.
I don’t remember the whole event, but all I truly remember this image as though it were ingrained in my head like a Polaroid. She was watching the man. Her expression had turned from the Peter-you-are-in-trouble-now-you-little-…to a sincere slight smile toward the man. She seemed touched.
A second later, she snapped out of it, yanked my arm, and we scooted out the exit.
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