A few weeks ago, I was rushing around trying to do some
Valentine's Day shopping done. I was stressed out and not thinking
very fondly of the weather right then.
It was dark, cold, and wet in the parking lot as I was loading my
car up. I noticed that I was missing a receipt that I might need
later. So mumbling under my breath, I retraced my steps to the mall
entrance. As I was searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt,
I heard a quiet sobbing. The crying was coming from a poorly
dressed boy of about 12 years old. He was short and thin. He had no
coat. He was just wearing a ragged flannel shirt to protect him
from the cold night's chill. Oddly enough, he was holding a hundred
dollar bill in his hand. Thinking that he had gotten lost from his
parents, I asked him what was wrong.
He told me his sad story. He said that he came
from a large family. He had three brothers and four sisters.
His
father had died when he was nine years old. His Mother was
poorly
educated and worked two full time jobs. She made very little to
support her large family. Nevertheless, she had managed to skimp
and
save two hundred dollars to buy her children some Valentine's
Day
presents (since she didn't manage to get them anything on
Christmas).
The young boy had been dropped off, by his mother, on the way to
her
second job. He was to use the money to buy presents for all
his
siblings and save just enough to take the bus home. He had not
even
entered the mall, when an older boy grabbed one of the hundred
dollar
bills and disappeared into the night.
"Why didn't you scream for help?" I asked. The boy said, "I
did."
"And nobody came to help you?" I queried. The boy stared at the
sidewalk and sadly shook his head.
"How loud did you scream?" I inquired. The soft-spoken boy looked
up and meekly whispered, "Help me!"
I realized that absolutely no one could have
heard that poor boy cry for help. So I grabbed his other hundred
and made a run to my car.
P.S. I didn't expect it would be such an ending. So mean.
