THE BOY AND A QUARTER

I was sitting in my favorite Peet's coffee shop in Portland, Oregon. I like it here because the employees like people, and make contact with kindness and humor. Yesterday, a little boy about five-years-old, was sitting at the table next to me when his father, standing and hovering over the boy, admonished and blamed the boy in an angry tone of voice. Why didn't matter. The impact on the boy, and me, did.

The boy, sitting only a few feet away, with his back to me, put his head down on the table, seemingly scared and hurt, while his father stepped away to order a coffee..

I leaned over to the boy, a couple of feet away, and quietly asked if he would like to guess which closed hand I held a quarter. I put both hands out, wanting to reach into his sweet soul. He turned slightly in his chair, his one shoulder facing me, and silently nodded towards one of my hands. I opened the hand and there was the quarter. "Do it again," I said. This time, he turned his chair completely towards me. His face was lighter and had a faint smile. I put my hands out with the quarter in one of them. He guessed right again. He started to giggle. My heart softened. I simply loved him. We were allies.

His father returned with his coffee. "Can I give your son this quarter that he guessed right with?" I asked. "Uh, yeah, sure," he replied, somewhat puzzled and relieved. His son was all smile and energy. The father, holding his coffee, reached for his son's hand, and they walked out the door talking softly.