THE SCARF - Seed of compassion

Early fall wind was blowing in swirls of red, gold and brown. I loved the rustling sound of leaves, dancing like flowers on the sidewalk. The trees had lost their fullness and stood as giant stick people. It was getting colder every day. I walked briskly across the street to catch the bus. One glance at my watch - too late - I'll have to take the next one. At least it wouldn't be long. In Geneva, buses runs practically night and day, just a few moments apart during rush hour. In fact, sometimes the bus doesn't even stop because it's full, and a couple of minutes later another one follows. It's actually much more convenient to take the bus - no need to look for parking, stress over traffic or schedule. And there are stops everywhere.

As I waited, a frail elderly man slowly approach the station. I smiled and he smiled back. I asked him where he was going, and we began talking. My bus came and went. Other buses with divers destinations came and went. People got off, people got on. I wasn't in any hurry to go home anymore, this man had my attention. Besides, nobody was waiting for me. I was single. Come to find out, he was by himself too. He told me how he lost his wife and lived in a small furnished room. Yes, he had children, and even grandchildren, "all grown up", he said. Busy with their careers, not really in touch with him. His clothes, and shoes were of good quality. He wore an overcoat, a little worn but well tailored. He was clean with a close shave. I could see the the vestiges of a handsome, well groomed gentleman. Now stood before me an old man, forgotten - or maybe just a burden pushed aside.

"Are you hungry?" I asked while thinking to myself, it's about that time. Why not? Then I said to him: "Let's go get a bite to eat, my treat." I knew of a cozy little Mom & Pop restaurant nearby, so to dinner we went.
After that, we had a date once a week. He never asked for money, or anything else. Just someone to talk to. I learned about his life, his wife, their children. He loved them all. Now, he didn't even know for sure where they were . But he had been living in the same place for a long time.

Something happened to me. The thought kept coming to my mind over and over again - this could be my grandpapa. He is somebody's father, somebody's grandfather. This could be my grandpapa... Lonely, forgotten old man. I looked forward to our dinners. Winter would soon be here in full force, it was already dark early, raining off and on, cold. Then snow would fall, covering everything with a beautiful white ethereal blanket. How fun, muffled sounds, roasted chestnuts vendors, icicles, frosted windows... Then the holiday season, family gatherings, homemade goodies, warms embraces, late night fires with friends, gifts...

I wasn't much of a knitter in my younger years. But I bought yarn and needles and embarked on a work of love. A scarf. It took some time and a lot of taking apart and starting over until I got it right. It was maroon, long, thick and soft, knitted in the simplest stitch, with fringes on the end.
I was so excited to bring it to my next dinner date with the old man. Sure enough, he was at the bus stop, waiting. He took the bag offered to him and slowly pulled the scarf out. He wrapped it around his neck and his face shined with joy. This was our last dinner together.

It was still almost a month until Christmas. But I never saw the old man again. I looked for him in all the places were we had been and all around the avenues and boulevards near my work place. To no avail, he had vanished. No one had seen him and he didn't turn out in any rescue mission in the city.

The Master Gardener planted a seed that fall. My heart was forever changed.