On that cold winter evening, I bought shawarma for a homeless man and his dog. At the time, I thought it was just an act of kindness. But when he slipped me a note, hinting at a past I had completely forgotten about, I realised that the encounter was no accident.
I was working in a sporting goods shop in a shopping centre in the city centre. In 17 years of marriage, raising two teenagers, and countless late shifts, I thought nothing would surprise me anymore. But life has a way of throwing up surprises.
That day was particularly difficult: holiday shoppers were demanding refunds for items that had clearly already been worn. On top of that, the till was stuck, and my daughter Amy texted to say she’d failed another maths test. We definitely should have considered a tutor.
All of these thoughts were swirling around in my head as my shift ended. The temperature outside had dropped to a bitter cold – it was -3°C on the thermometer.
The wind howled between the buildings, scattering scraps of newspaper on the pavement. I wrapped myself in my coat, dreaming of a hot bath at home.
On the way to the bus, I noticed a shawarma stand that had been there as long as I’d been working in the shop. It was nestled between a closed flower shop and a dimly lit convenience store.
Steam was rising from the metal surface of the grill. The aroma of roasting meat and spices almost made me stop. But I didn’t like the salesman, a stocky man with perpetual wrinkles on his forehead.
He cooked quickly and you could get a shawarma in seconds, but today I wasn’t in the mood to put up with his grumpiness.
However, I did stop when I saw a homeless man with a dog approaching the kiosk. The man looked to be about 55 years old, was clearly freezing and, judging by the look in his eyes on the rotating spit, was very hungry.
He was wearing a thin coat and the poor puppy had almost no fur. My heart clenched.
Are you going to order or just stand there? – The salesman’s harsh voice brought me out of my reverie.
I watched the homeless man gather his courage.
Please, sir… Can I just have some hot water? – he asked, slumping his shoulders.
I already knew what the salesman was going to say.
GET OUT OF HERE! This isn’t charity! – he shouted.
The dog clung to his master, and his shoulders slumped. And then I saw my grandmother’s face in front of me.
She told me stories of her difficult childhood and how one act of kindness had saved their family from starvation. I never forgot that lesson.
Her words echoed in my head:
‘Kindness costs nothing, but it can change everything.’
I spoke before I could realise:
Two coffees and two shawarma.
The vendor nodded and quickly completed the order.
Eighteen dollars,’ he said dryly, placing the bag and tray on the counter.
I handed over the money, took the food, and hurried to catch up with the homeless man.
When I handed him the food, his hands were shaking.
God bless you, child,’ he whispered.
I nodded awkwardly, intending to go home sooner. But his hoarse voice stopped me.
Wait.
I turned around and saw him take out a pen and paper, write something quickly, and then hand it to me.
Read it at home,’ he said with a mysterious smile.
I nodded, slipped the note into my pocket, and walked on, already thinking about whether there would be room on the bus and what to make for dinner.
The note that changed everything
At home that evening, it was business as usual. Son Derek asked for help with a science project. Amy complained about her maths teacher. Husband, Tom, was talking about a new client at his law firm.
I forgot about the note until the next evening when I started packing up the laundry.
Smoothing out the crumpled paper, I read:
‘Thank you for saving my life. You don’t know it, but you already saved it once.’
Beneath the message was a three-year-old date and the name of the café: Lucy’s Café.
My clothes nearly fell out of my hands.
It was my favourite cafe until it closed.
And then I remembered that day.
A meeting that was supposed to happen
There was a storm that day, and many people went into the cafe to shelter from the rain.
A man came inside, soaking wet. His eyes read not only hunger… but something else.
No one even looked at him but me.
The waitress was about to kick him out, but I heard my grandmother’s voice again.
So I just got him a coffee and a croissant.
Smiled and wished him a good day.
I thought it meant nothing.
But it was the same person.
And now my heart was breaking again.
A new chance
The next day I left work early.
He was still there, outside the shawarma stand, curled up with his dog.
I read the note,’ I said with a smile. – I can’t believe you remember that day.
He looked at me, surprised.
‘You are a light in this cruel world, child. You saved me twice.
‘No,’ I shook my head. – ‘It was just a little bit of food and human involvement. I want to do more. Will you let me help?
He looked at me for a long time.
Why are you doing this?
Because everyone deserves a second chance. A real one.
He nodded, and I told him to follow me.
We found a shelter for him, helped him recover his papers, started a fundraiser. One of my husband’s colleagues, a lawyer, agreed to help him with his claim for free.
After a month, Victor – that was the homeless man’s name – rented a room and got a job at a warehouse, where they let him bring his dog Lucky.
Third chance
On my birthday, the doorbell rang.
Victor was standing there with a cake, clean-shaven, in new clothes. Lucky wagged his tail happily.
You saved me three times,’ he said. – At the café, at the shawarma stand… and since then.
I held back my tears and invited him inside.
And then I thought: how many more Victor’s like that are waiting to be noticed?
Now I tell my kids every day:
‘Be kind. Always. It could save someone’s life.’
