Nov
12
2018
The Man Behind The Table
Posted in Daily Living 2 Comments
He sat behind the table having his lunch.
The little girl at the next table smiled at him.
He was eating alone.
She was with her mother.
The little girl happily colored the placemat before her.
She drew people, and flowers, and a big sun in the sky.
She showed her mother the beautiful picture she drew.
What a wonderful artist you are, her mother said.
As if needing that little boost of encouragement, she walked to the table beside her.
She had the paper placemat in her hand.
She walked up to the man who was eating alone.
This is for you, she said sweetly.
Well thank you, little lady, the man responded while patting her head.
He gazed at the picture lovingly.
He looked at it with tenderness.
He remembered when his children drew pictures for him.
Now his children had their own children who were drawing pictures for them.
What beautiful flowers, he noted.
They’re from my garden; I can pick some for you if you like.
She looked back at her mommy as if to say, Can I?
The man behind the table and the mother exchanged knowing glances.
That would be lovely little lady, he said warmly.
He winked across the table to the little girl’s mother who nodded approvingly.
I think I would like one of those, he said pointing to a red flower.
Why are you by yourself? The little girl innocently asked him.
Don’t you have a little girl? She continued.
I do have a little girl but she’s all grown up, the man said wistfully.
She is a mommy now and has her own little girl, he told her.
Are you old? The little girl asked boldly.
I am much older than you, the man responded.
What does your hat say? The little girl asked curiously.
I was a soldier once, and this hat is the name of the war that I fought in, he said quietly.
What’s a war?
The little girl waited for his answer.
Honey, leave the nice man alone; he is trying to eat his lunch, her mother admonished.
It’s fine, the man behind the table said, it’s really fine.
The little girl climbed up on the chair next to the man behind the table.
A war is when people fight to protect other people, he explained.
Do they hurt each other? The little girl wanted to know.
Sometimes they do, the man said tenderly, but some things are worth fighting for.
What things? The little girl asked him.
Family, friends, freedom…he never got a chance to finish.
We’re not allowed to fight, the little girl admitted, but sometimes I fight with my brother.
Mommy doesn’t like it when we fight and we have to say we’re sorry, she added.
Fighting should never be the first thing you do, the man told her.
Sometimes talking is best, he said.
How come you didn’t talk when you were fighting? The little girl pressed.
The little girl was asking more than she knew.
You are a very smart little girl, the man said without answering her question.
Talking would have been nice, he added as if he was talking to someone else.
Do you see the pretty place you drew in your picture? He asked, looking right in to her eyes.
I was fighting to keep places like that safe for little girls like you, he said with pride.
The little girl hopped down from the chair and gave the man a hug.
Thank you, she said as she took both of his hands in hers.
The waitress came over and brought the man his check.
He said something to her and handed the waitress his money.
He was ready to leave.
At that moment, the little girl’s mother knew.
The man behind the table used his arms to maneuver his wheel chair.
He turned towards the little girl and her mother.
Talk first, he said to both of them, but if you have to fight, fight for what is important.
He had the little girl’s drawing on his lap.
The big sun, the happy people, and the pretty flowers were visible.
You’re important, little lady, he said as the little girl gave him another hug.
The little girl’s mother had tears in her eyes.
One brief encounter.
One child’s drawing.
Innocence protected and cherished.
Mommy, why couldn’t that man walk? The little girl asked.
Because he was protecting what was important, her mother answered, wiping away a tear.
I am very glad you gave the man your picture, her mother said.
The little girl smiled; He said I was important.
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. (Joshua 1:9)
The mother asked the waitress for the check so they could leave.
Oh, that nice man took care of it, the waitress said.
He wanted me to give you this.
The waitress handed the mother a placemat with some writing on it.
You are important and worth fighting for.
What does it say, Mommy?
The nice man told us that we are important, the mother answered, her voice cracking.
We are! The little girl said with certainty.
Yes we are, her mother said as she held her little girl’s hand.
Wow! Great story for Veterans Day!! I loved it!
Thank you, Karen! I am so glad you were blessed.
Have a wonderful Thanksgiving with your family.
Regina