My intention was to do a tiny act of charity by purchasing shawarma for a homeless guy and his dog on a chilly winter evening. I believed it was simply a minor gesture. The fact that he gave me a letter that alluded to a time in my life that I had long since forgotten brought to my attention the fact that our encounter was anything from typical.

During the Christmas season, working at a sports goods shop in the downtown area is not exactly the ideal choice for employment. I am a mother of two adolescents, I am thirty-nine years old, and I have been married for seventeen years. I believed that I was immune to surprises since I had been balancing late shifts and the stress of my family for such a long time. However, life does not always go according to that plan.

That particular day in December had been particularly infuriating. Customers were requesting refunds for equipment that they had obviously used and utilized to a significant degree. The cash register that was being used kept freezing up. To add insult to injury, my daughter Ellie sent me a text message informing me that she had failed yet another arithmetic exam. Once more. Being a tutor was no longer a choice at this point in time anymore.

The temperature had plummeted to a depressing 26 degrees Fahrenheit by the time my shift eventually came to a conclusion. I braced myself against the bitter wind that was blowing down the street as I walked out of the shopping center and drew my coat more tightly around my body. I was only able to think of taking a relaxing bath and having some time to myself.

On my way to the bus station, I made my way by the typical landmarks, which included the flower shop that had been boarded up, the convenience store that was poorly lighted, and the old shawarma stand that was located right in the center. As a matter of fact, it had been there for years, becoming a permanent presence on the street. Steam erupted from the grill, bringing with it the aroma of meat that had been seasoned with various spices.

Although I was considering getting supper there, the seller, who was a stocky guy with a perpetual frown, did not exactly give me a warm and cuddly feeling. Despite this, I took a little halt when I saw an elderly gentleman and his unkempt tiny dog approaching the stand.

With a paper-thin coat, the guy seemed to be about fifty-five years old, or maybe even older. The shivering of his dog, a little mongrel with patchy hair, could be seen alongside him. As I watched him examine the food as if he hadn’t eaten in days, I felt a tightening across my chest.

The merchant yelled at the customer, “Are you going to order it or are you just going to stare at it?”

The guy jerked his head. “I urge you, sir. Is it possible for me to receive some hot water?

“There will be no giveaways here. “Get lost,” the seller yelled at the customer.

After lowering his head and turning to walk away, the man’s dog trailed after him with its tail tucked in somewhat.

When I was thinking about it, I heard the voice of my grandmother, which is a memory that I have had with me since I was a youngster. The phrase “Kindness costs nothing, but it can change everything” was something that she constantly uttered. She had been through difficult times, and it was the generosity of a stranger that had allowed her family to survive at one point. It was a lesson that stayed with me.

I walked up to the stand without bothering to think about it. I would want to order two shawarmas and two cups of coffee.

The merchant didn’t even flicker an eye. It is eighteen dollars.

In a hurry, I made the payment, grabbed the tray, and then raced down the sidewalk in an effort to catch up with the guy.

Although I was giving him the meal, I added, “Excuse me.” “This is for you and your friend who is here.”

The act of taking it caused his hands to shake. “May God bless you,” he cooed to himself. “You are very kind, miss.”

I gave him a grin and began to walk away, but he went into his pocket and brought out a piece of paper that was crumpled.

He said, “Wait,” while jotting something down with the stub of a pencil. “Do not proceed.” He gave the letter to me himself. “Read it when you are at home.”

While I was walking away, I nodded, tucked the letter into the pocket of my coat, and was already thinking about supper, housework, and how I was going to get Ellie through her math lesson.

The fact that I had performed an act of charity did not force my life at home to come to a halt. The scientific project that my son, Nathan, was working on required assistance. For the second time, Ellie was ranting about her instructor. James, my husband, was screaming about a tough customer at his legal business. He was referring to the client.

The message was left forgotten in the pocket of my coat until the next evening, when I was organizing the clothes inside of my closet. My attempt to reach inside the coat resulted in the paper falling out.

The text read:

It is because of you that I am alive today. There is no way you are aware of it, yet you have done it before.

A date from three years ago was written below, as well as the name of a coffee shop called “Rosie’s Corner.”

I was unable to breathe.

Right up until it closed its doors, Rosie’s was my go-to place for lunch. An image sprang to me when I heard the name: a stormy day with thunder rumbling through the windows. There was a guy who had staggered into the café, completely drenched and obviously in a state of anxiety. Everyone else paid him no attention. The waitress was ready to exclude him from the establishment when I made the offer to purchase him a cup of coffee and a croissant.

A grin appeared on my face, and I cautioned him to be careful.

I’d completely forgotten about it since it was such a trivial deed. He had not, however.

The homeless guy I had assisted beside the shawarma stall turned out to be, in fact, him.

Suddenly, I had feelings of both humility and heartbreak. Someone had fallen so far… and been there for such a long time. Did my seemingly insignificant actions really matter so much?

I hardly got any sleep that night.

After leaving work early the next day, I made my way back toward the shawarma kiosk, hoping that I would be able to locate him.

Suddenly, there he was, snuggled close to the alley, with his dog curled up on his lap.

“Hi,” I said to myself.

The astonished expression on his face was followed by a feeble grin. What is it again?

“Your note was read by me.”

He indicated with a nod. It was you who was there at Rosie’s. It was obvious to me the moment I laid eyes on you.

I murmured, “I can’t believe you remembered,” and I was shocked.

He said, “It is difficult to forget you.” “A ray of light in the midst of a terribly dismal world. You extended my day by one extra day. Then someone else. And after that… here you are once again.”

I informed him, “I want to be of assistance.” “It is of great assistance.”

At that moment, his brows narrowed in amazement and he said, “Why?”

“Because you are important. This is also due to the fact that you have already been of great assistance to me.

As for his dog, his name was Max, and his name was Daniel.

We walked to a neighboring café, and while we were there, Max was permitted to enter. Daniel shared his tale with me as we were enjoying a cup of coffee and split a piece of berry pie, as well as a treat for Max.

Previously, he had worked as a truck driver. He was a member of a stable family, with a wife and a daughter. A automobile, however, veered into his lane on a night when it was raining. His leg was broken in the collision, and he was left with an overwhelming amount of medical debt.

He lost everything since he was unable to work, including his job, his house, and his wife. His daughter was taken away by his wife, who then relocated. Despite his disability claim, it was rejected. There was a slump in mood. And then the streets appeared.

The words “that day at Rosie’s,” which he said in a voice that was heavy with passion, “I was going to end it.” Nevertheless, your grin and your generosity provided me with an excuse to put it off. I continued on my journey after discovering Max’s abandoned body a few days later. I didn’t know I was that isolated.”

The tears began to fall down his cheeks.

He proceeded by saying, “And now, this cold snap was making me wonder if I should give Max up so that he could survive without me.”

I extended my hand across the table and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “But you’re not going to give him up. In addition, you are no longer working on something by yourself.

During the evening, I went to work. To ensure that Daniel and Max would have a place to stay, I phoned a shelter in the area. They had a restricted amount of room for pets, but they made an exception.

Through the use of a GoFundMe website, I shared their story with others. Both Ellie and Nathan contributed to the creation of the postings; when they set their minds to it, adolescents are digital geniuses.

Having listened to everything, James decided to make a few phone calls. Daniel’s case was offered to be handled by a colleague who specialized in disability appeals and promised to do it without reimbursement.

After that, we had to update our identification, look for a job, clean our clothing, and come to the dentist. Part by part, Daniel started the process of rebuilding.

After a period of two months, we were able to locate a room for him in a shared home next to an industrial warehouse. Max was instantly adopted as the team’s mascot since the management loved him so much that he even allowed him to hang around between shifts.

Daniel was able to grin once again for a purpose. Max, who was now happily prancing about in his new red collar, did the same thing.

When I was celebrating my birthday a year later, our doorbell rang.

His name was Daniel.

As he stood there, he was wearing a button-up shirt and pants, and he was carrying a cake that had been purchased from the neighborhood bakery. Max sat next to him, his tail wagging in a joyful manner.

The words “You saved my life” were said by Daniel in a calm tone. “Rosie’s,” she said. At the stands selling shawarma. And with all that has transpired since then. I was under the impression that it was time to praise the lady who had returned mine to me.

I fought back tears and greeted him as he entered the room. There was a gathering of my family in the kitchen, which included Ellie, Nathan, and James. We all split that cake and spent an hour laughing and telling tales.

Later on, as Daniel was leaving, I waited at the entranceway and watched him vanish into the chilly winter night. Max was following closely after him.

And the idea occurred to me: what if I hadn’t stopped that day? In the event that I had been too exhausted, too busy, or too cold?

There are a great number of individuals just like Daniel in the world. There are so many “almosts.”

That is why I pass on to my children the advice that my grandma gave me:

Being kind does not cost anything. It has the potential to alter everything.”

Simply because there are situations when it does in fact happen.