Moments in Life

"Some moments are nice, some are nicer, some are even worth writing about."

- Charles Bukowski


As we walked down the steps of Fisherman's Bastion, I noticed a woman sitting off to the side on a bench with a few tablecloths next to her that she had made.  She had no sign out nor did she try to actively attract passing tourists to herself, she just sat quietly.  No one seemed to notice her as they walked by and yet you couldn't miss seeing her sitting there.  My first thought was how cold it was outside and that she was sitting on a cold concrete bench.    

We walked just a few feet past her and my heart said to go back.  I suddenly stopped and looked up at my son and he looked at me, smiled, and said, Let's go back.  He already knew what was about to happen.  We've been in situations like this before and we always seem to be in sync about these things before either of us has said a word.  We both love to give to others and help whenever we can and we often talk of how we wish we had more money to be able to help more people.  

My initial thought was to simply give her some money and not take a tablecloth so she could sell the cloth we would have taken to someone else and end up with more money.  In addition to that, I have no need for a tablecloth.  I don't even have a home at the moment.  However, when we walked over to her, she quickly stood up, gave us a big smile and eagerly began pulling more tablecloths out of her bag so that we could see them all and have more to choose from.  On seeing this, I was not going to disappoint her by just handing her money even though it meant packing around a tablecloth in an already overcrowded suitcase.  I then realized that every time I look at our tablecloth, whether in my suitcase or in our home whenever we are settled somewhere again, I will remember these sweet moments with my son.

John and I chose one that we both liked and paid her the amount she was asking and more.  I asked her if I might take her photo for my blog and she happily agreed.  We do not know her name or more about her story due to language barriers but that is okay.  We do know the small chapter where her life and ours intersected.


Charles Bukowski (1920-1994), quoted above, was a German-born American poet, novelist, and short story writer whose writing was influenced by social, cultural, and economic ambience of his hometown of Los Angeles.

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