It was a rainy afternoon when I first encountered him. I was walking down the street, headed toward my favorite shawarma spot, when I noticed a man sitting on the curb, his back hunched against the wall. His clothes were tattered, and his face was hidden beneath the brim of an old cap. He didn’t ask for anything—he just sat there, looking down at the ground.
I’ve seen many homeless people in the city, but for some reason, this man caught my attention more than the others. I’m not sure what drew me to him, maybe it was his stillness or the way he seemed disconnected from the chaos around him. Something about the moment felt different.
Without much thought, I walked into the shawarma place and ordered two wraps, one for me and one for him. I also grabbed a coffee from the cafe next door. When I walked back outside, I approached him cautiously, not sure what kind of reaction I would get. “Hey, I’ve got some food and coffee for you,” I said, holding out the bag with the shawarma.
He looked up slowly, his eyes soft and tired, and then to my surprise, he smiled. It wasn’t a big, bright smile, but it was genuine. “Thank you,” he said quietly. His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in days.
I sat down beside him, offering the coffee, and we shared a quiet moment. I don’t know why, but I felt compelled to stay with him for a while. We didn’t talk much. We simply sat, watching the world pass by. After a few minutes, he stood up and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, folded piece of paper and handed it to me. “For you,” he said.
Confused, I took the note, unsure of what to expect. When I unfolded it, I saw it was handwritten in neat, careful letters:
“Thank you for seeing me. Most people don’t. You didn’t give me pity; you gave me kindness. A simple meal and a kind word meant more than you’ll ever know. I’m not asking for your help, but if you ever wonder if you’re making a difference, this is your answer.”
I read the note several times, each word hitting me harder than the last. I had come into this with the intention of offering a small act of charity, but in that moment, I realized that this simple exchange had changed me more than I could ever have imagined. It wasn’t the food or the coffee that mattered—it was the acknowledgment, the human connection.
I looked up at him, but he was already walking away, disappearing into the crowd. It was as if he had just come into my life to teach me something profound and then left just as quietly as he arrived. I sat there for a long time, holding the note in my hands, feeling something shift inside me.
I never saw him again, but I carry that note with me to this day. It’s a reminder that sometimes the smallest gestures can have the most significant impact—not just on others, but on ourselves as well. I learned that kindness, not pity, is what truly makes a difference in the world.
