A little bit of happiness.

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Yesterday, my dad, brother and I sat in a perfectly nice Italian restaurant. We got a table next to the window and while we were enjoying a jolly good time, my eyes started to wander and through the passing crowd I saw something I see ever so often. A homeless man, sitting on the floor with a coffee cup in front of him. No sign was propped up in front of him, he didn’t say anything either. There was no sob story. He just sat there. His dog was laying on his legs, sleeping. All the man did was stroke him. Over and over, at the same pace.

A strange calm surrounded this man. He was surrounded by hundreds of people and yet, it was like he and his trusted companion lived in their own little world. It seemed like it didn’t matter that they were homeless, that they silently asked strangers for money or that the only thing keeping said man warm, was his best friend.

I was transfixed by them. My brother told me to stop staring but I wasn’t staring. I was trying to figure out how someone who lives on the streets can seem so content. I’m not saying he was but he seemed to be. He seemed to have everything he needed right there in front of him. The story unfolding itself in front of me was both heart-wrenching and heart-warming. It was a picture of sadness and happiness. It was the story of broken dreams and most likely an unexpected life. And yet, I have never seen anyone so peaceful. Accepting of what life threw at him and happy of the things he still had.

Maybe, everything I witnessed is just a picture of my imagination. Maybe it’s just me hoping that this man finds a little bit of happiness each day. Or maybe, it’s just something I needed to see to be reminded of all the wonderful things in my life.

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