When you have nothing left to give

When I was two years old my mother would walk me through an inner-city park each morning on our way to day care and work. Wide eyed and open I absorbed the city the way a child does- I saw everything. Equally.

One day, after letting my hand go to fish some sultanas from her bag, my mother turned to me to discover I was no longer at her side. Ever the talkative and curious child, I had wandered to introduce myself to a new friend.

When my mother found me I was sitting on a homeless mans lap deep in conversation. Panic subsiding, as I was clearly unharmed, my mother removed me from my perch. She reached for her wallet to offer him money and he waved away her generosity. Instead he reached into his pocket, presenting to me his last dollar coin.

Being seen that day, really seen, was worth literally everything to a man who had nothing.

I saw a gentle old man who looked sad.
My mother saw a homeless stranger.
We both saw that listening is sometimes the greatest gift we can give.