Finding Hope


I stride towards coffee shop, it’s a freezing, windy, monochrome day. I pass through a small locale where I see this middle aged woman, she is fair skinned, and sports long light brown hair. She is carrying a baby in one hand and grabbing a toddler with the other. I’ve always had this idea that wherever there are children in a shop I should try and help those inside. My logic is as follows: If there are kids there, they must be hard working and can’t afford any further help. I decide I should enter and see what I find. I play closer attention to the humans inside and assume the little ones aren’t hers as she seems around fifty-five. She greets me, I smile back. The locale sells a variety of clothes both for men and women. The only thing I seem to be interested lately are ties, I approach the counter to appreciate the different coloured ties. I always loved patterns in my ties, I spot this really odd one with different sized squares. She tells me its peacock blue, nothing I’d ever heard of before. I like it and tell her so. Her capable hands seem to juggle between the children and grabbing the tie. I put it on top my shirt and imagine myself on an event to us it for. I decide I will take it. I offer my help with the toddler, I’ve never felt comfortable with children but it is the only decent thing I’m able to think of doing. A little while won’t kill me. She gladly accepts. Then I’m charged and my tie is put on a bag. We exchange the goods. I can’t help but look at the children and see their dirty and torn clothes, I can’t help but feel the need to ask if they need something. I may not be great with kids, but my help can’t hurt them I suppose. She seems hesitant to answer me. I utter some encouragement. She tells me that obviously they aren’t hers but are her little visitors. These visitors come and go every day. Their mothers leave them behind to try and make a living and she gladly offers her help. She tells me she is somewhat new to the area and she has gained the trust of these women. Which she appears to be really proud of. So she proceeds to help them in the only way she can imagine. So she runs a small-business and somewhat of a day-care. She tells me her actual babies are all grown up studying, working and whatnot. I find it funny that she still refers to her offspring as babies. I’m awestruck. I don’t really know what to say except that she gives me hope and her actions are something wonderful. I hand her some bills. She refuses, I tell her it’s a little something for her day-care. For some supplies or a Christmas gift for the children. I tell her she should use it in any way she pleases. I make her yield. We say our goodbyes and I exit the locale. I feel uneasy and light a cigarette. I can’t help but feel miserable at the end of the day. I recall Orwell’s words: 

“But the thing that I saw in your face

No power can disinherit:

No bomb that ever burst

Shatters the crystal spirit.”

So I think of her; she gives me hope.

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