"Dollar A Thought" by Melissa Mestas

The soft beat of Floetry rang in my ears as I watched my breath exit my body into the air. The below zero oxygen entering my lungs was slightly painful as I waited for my bus ride back home. I watched the few pedestrians who are struggling to stay warm. A young girl in a fluffy white jacket was jumping around, I assume in hopes to warm up. All her face and hair was covered with her jacket hood and scarf only leaving her bright blue eyes open to view. An elderly woman walking with a cane on the icy sidewalk in a rush nearly fell.

I continued listening to the music coming from my headphones when I noticed a homeless man just minutes away from me. He looked older, but the closer he approached me the more I realized he was a lot younger than he looked. The thought of him not having a home to go to in the cold weather broke my heart. I pulled my headphones off my ears as he walked closer to me, as to appear not to be rude. He asked if I may have a couple dollars to spare for him to ride the bus. As I dug into my small white purse looking for anything I could help him with, I noticed how thin he was. His hands, ungloved were wrinkly and dirty. I saw the grime underneath his nails as he tried to keep them warm. I finally found a couple dollars and handed it to him. He continued to thank me, even well after we bordered the bus.

I sat there, just kept catching myself glancing at him and wondering. What kind of life did he have? What brought him to the point that he has the life he has now? Every aspect ran through my mind. Could his life have gotten here due to drugs or alcohol? Could he have been an unfortunate person who was affected by the recession? I tried to picture his life before. What he looked like, if he had family, or what growing up was like for him. I imagined him as a little boy going to school or playing football in the yard with an older brother, and having dinner with his family around the dining room table. Maybe he didn’t have a family, or one that cared so much. He could have had a rough childhood, where he had to fend for his siblings. Maybe he got caught up in the party life and just didn’t know how to pull himself together.

As we all know looks are just that, looks. We cannot tell just by looking at someone what their life is like; like the saying goes, “We cannot judge a book by its cover.” So no matter how much I sat there and wondered, I will never know what his life was like. I will not even know if he survived another below zero night. I took a deep breath and pulled my backpack over my shoulders as my bus pulled up to my stop, again I took my headphones off. I looked him in the eyes one last time and told him “God Bless you.” He thanked me again as I got off and the doors shut behind me.