Running late for an appointment in Scranton, PA. Racing to beat time, I finally nab a metered parking spot. While fumbling for change, I hear shuffling steps approaching. A gravelly voice mutters something about a quarter and I stiffen, instinctively expecting to see someone proffering their hand for money. Instead, I find a small, shriveled old man in a ragged flannel shirt, peering through dirty glasses. His hand is extended toward me, and in it rests a quarter.
“Do you need a quarter?” he repeats. I fumble with a clumsy response, politely decline his offer and thank him, presumably for the quarter, but in truth, for restoring my faith in the possibility of angels. I study his wizened face, note his bright eyes and thank him again. If anyone could use a quarter, it would be him. He smiles, turns and continues on his way.
Sandy Long
on June 18, 2014I think you're right, Sharon. They're out there.
Sharon Long
on June 17, 2014An open heart can see more of the angels around us
Sharon Long
on June 17, 2014:)