double life
there’s this guy in a wheelchair on the street, panhandling. there’s a couple quarters in the jar. there’s a sign around his neck that says, “i was in an accident and now i am homeless. please donate. God bless!” i walk past him. 10 steps. i go back. i only have five on me. i hold his hand and ask how i can pray for him. he starts talking. his name is jorge and his wife left him after the accident. “sometimes i feel that life is meaningless”. he’s crying. “i’m sorry”. i’m sorry that i don’t know what it’s like to lose everything. i’m sorry i can’t stay longer. i’m sorry i can’t give you basic necessities of survival. i’m sorry i can’t explain how God is taking care of you at this moment in time. i think those are some things i’m sorry for when i talk to you, jorge. we pray. i hug him. why can’t i stay longer? i get up. dad’s looking at me. i feel sorry again, but towards my family now. mom tells me to wash my hands. the rest of the day, we act like nothing happened. we tell jokes, we watch some little kids perform at the food court, and we look at shoes. at times, i feel sorry that i talked to jorge. when we eat, i’m so happy that i finally get to eat good food that i forget about jorge completely.