Racing ahead of the snowstorm to feed some cats, I crossed the slippery bridge at Mario Andretti speed (while he's idling perhaps.) Spotted a forest green cape across a person's shoulders as they made their way to the Portland side. I pulled up to tell him to get in the car. He had no hat on his bald head, tennis shoes with no socks, garden gloves, and thin sweat pants. A backpack pressed him forward as he removed his gloves at my suggestion and tossed them towards the windshield heater. "It's SO cold!!! It's my daughter's backpack and she leant me her watch while she's in Chicago." He pulled his sleeve back to reveal a pretty pink timepiece. He then launched into details I didn't pay attention to really. I was focusing on the road to the hospital. Said he was on his way there. The next breath, he mentioned he was going to stop by the 7-11 to get cigarettes first.
Are you SURE you want to get cigarettes BEFORE you go to the hospital? Yes, I need a puff. OKAY, I attempt that without a huge sigh. "7-11 is a few streets from the hospital so I can walk from there."
I steadily climb High Street, inching along like a grandpa on a Sunday drive, weaving and sweating a bit, leaning forward as though I also have my daughter's backpack strapped-on. I felt around in the back seat and found the new turquoise robe a client's neighbor had given me the week before. I'd added it to the other items in my donation bag. "Wrap your hands in this, it's fuzzy and warm." He rolled and swaddled his swollen red hands in the cozy robe.
The day before, I was tossing boxes into the recycling bin. To my astonishment, there was a cloth bag full of perishables inside. Stuffing mix, cranberry sauce in a small can, two boxes of yellow cake mix, jar of peanut butter, a small bag of satsumas, a hot and spicy ramen soup, and a can of off-brand green beans. Without thinking, I snatched the bag and tucked it in the back seat to drop off at the food bank another day.
I pulled out the peanut butter jar, the satsumas, a few granola bars from my glovebox,, and a sweatshirt from the donations bag and handed them to my traveler. "What's your name?" "Gary, Gerold......." he beamed. "Are you French Canadian?" "No, I'm French! "" Well, Gerold, I said as I pulled into the 7-11 lot, have a Merry Christmas!
"You're an Angel," he said, "really, I mean it."
I jumped out of the car and gave him a hug. He handed me back the satsumas and said he didn't need them. Too much to carry...
I must admit, I hit the man "up" for a hug.