© Stan Boulton
I sit at lunch stuffing my face with gambas y queso pizza, looking at this round pie wondering if I can stomach the rest of it. Wasting seems so tragic but I do it often. I sit here letting the portion I shoveled in settle, realizing this is way too much food. As i sit sipping my wine, up walks a mom and her darling little one with softly braided hair and rosy cherub cheeks. Mom shakes her cup in my direction to see if i can donate to her fund. I only have american dinero which does her no good. I shake my head unable to currently find the words in spanish to say I've got nothing to give. with my pizza at face level with the little one, i watch her face light up. I offer to them what I will never finish. The brightness in the child's expression could fill a room. Such a simple act. Did It make me feel better to share with these hungry souls the food I could never eat alone? I suppose. Did I feel guilty when they shuffled off leaving me to wonder where their next meal might come from? Probably. Would it have affected my day if I hadn't sacrificed my remains to those less fortumate then myself? Perhaps. Did I believe that they were homeless or just clever scammers? Hmmm, always the skeptic..
But for now I am thankful that something so seemingly insignificant to me could equate to something so monumental or at least seemingly so, to this little girl. I'll remember the genuine smile on that cute little face along with the gratefulness of her mother for quite some time. it only takes a second to change a life, hers or mine. or maybe yours.