Man in the Snow

His crystal blue eyes, reflecting the glistening snow, glanced at me from across the park. I, having wondered if I would recognize him if I saw him again, knew instantly. He was the homeless man I’d once given a meal to at a street corner. I’ll never forget his eyes. That day everything about him looked rough except for his startling blue eyes. Today he was clean, wearing a pair of blue jeans and a thick coat. I see a small boy playing nearby. I decided to go speak to the man, though I was certain he would not remember me. I make my way over, seeing the boy building a snowman and hear “look, Daddy!” The man’s gaze resting upon the boy, his mouth upturned into a smile. I decided not to intrude on their moment, but I could see this man had found his way. I sat on a bench nearby, one where I would not impose on their moment. This was a scene I needed to experience. I had become discouraged by increasing number of less fortunate in my city. I had been wondering if my small efforts ever made a difference. That day, in the whiteness of the snow, I realized that kindness covers the soul just as snow covers the ground. That man had found his purpose in his little son, and it was if he had been reborn from who he was before. Perhaps small acts of kindness can make a difference after all.