The Widow's Gift

Well, okay, he's not actually a widow. He's not even married. He's not even old enough to be married. But, he gives amazing gifts just the same.

His name is Angel. (how appropriate.... sometimes) And, he's literally the only one that brings me gifts. I guess because I appear rich and have everything I need (or possibly other reasons) gifts from the locals are rare. But, not from this kid. He brings me a small box of milk, fruit, candy....

Nothing mind you that I really want or even eat most of the time, but I don't tell him that! Because strangely enough I see these gifts as super amazing. Amazing that he thinks of me and is generous. This kid is also incredibly poor, father in jail, mother who knows where, living with his grandma whom he calls his mom, torn and well worn clothes.... All the usual broken family stuff. But, the gifts come. Not every day mind you, but often. About every two weeks. Something small, but a gift none the less. Just something to say we're friends. Not because I gave him something. Not because he wants something. I think they are truly just gifts. And in this place, that means more than you could possibly imagine. So, even though I don't drink the milk or eat the almost rotten banana (which the locals really like them that way, I guess), I almost anticipate and look forward to them.

I think I understand the widow's gift more now than ever. I wish I could give like that.