I passed a man on the way home from work this evening. He was walking down the side of the carriageway. Actually, he was walking unsteadily. I slowed down wondering whether to stop and give him a lift, at least down to a safer part of the road. I couldn't be sure but he appeared to be quite drunk. I pulled over and watched him in my rear-view mirror. He was obviously well-oiled. A truck turned sharply to avoid him at one point-he didn't appear to care.
Having stopped now, I thought I might as well wait for him to reach the car. Five minutes went by and he reached the car. My windows were down, and I asked him if he wanted a lift. He indicated that he was going to the next town, just out of my way, but not far enough to put me to trouble. So in he got.
“Sorry, I'm really quite drunk. I've been at a funeral. My family are all really out of it, so I decided to walk home. I'm Ryan,” and he offered me his hand. I drove and we talked. He told me he'd buried his uncle, and that he was a traveler.
He called me brother and offered me his cool shades as payment. I declined and said the joy was in the giving. Three times along the way he told me that, “Whatever we put out there comes back to us. Something good will come to you for picking me up.” We told each other where we came from, the places we've lived, and how we both ended up here. He apologized again for being so drunk. “Anywhere around here is fine for me,” he said. So I dropped him at the next junction. We shook hands and spoke each other's names again.
I felt as if I'd been blessed somehow. I think I have been.
