Making a difference

A man standing by the fare machine spoke to us rushers-by. Can anyone spare 20 cents? Another who had walked past, paused, digging into the bottom of his old leather satchel, full of the day’s work and tomorrow’s tasks. I admired him for it as I slid past into the train. An hour later, I returned from my errand, and the first man was still there. In his red shirt and black cap, asking for more from others, fulfilling for the time being his job of presenting us with the opportunity to give, to be generous, to offer of ourselves even in the hope of making a difference which is slim to none.