I changed my money for a day at the markets.
The experience overwhelmed. Every vendor, anxious to promote his wares, fought for attention in expert ways. Beyond greetings and pleasantries, each had a story to tell and invested interest in my own.
With only so much to give, each connection pulled at the heart. I wish I had more to give you, everything that you are worth.
The time had passed to the end.
My pockets were empty, my soul even more.
"You may have anything in my stall for your shoes .. or something to eat," one broken and weary careworn face rasped from a darkened corner.
His needs were greater than my wants.
I retreated into the sunlight and took inventory with those around me. I pulled from my backpack a box of crayons, a dry pair of socks, two granola bars. Three pens and a small notebook were added from a friend. Another shared a handful of feminine hygiene products.
I turned and moved back inside alone.
I presented on the table all I now had. His crooked finger sifted the ingredients, open the crayons and gently touched each unused point. He nodded and pushing the useless-to-him feminine products back across the table at me, handed me a large hand-carved bowl.
I turned and saw the quiet figure of a young woman, standing against the wall. I leaned in close to her as I moved through the doorway. I pressed the hygiene items into her hand. Her eyes lit and her hand swayed toward the table.
"No, no ... I don't need anything else. These are just for you." I said and turned to make my way toward our idling truck.
Quickening my step in the alleyway, I heard a call behind me.
"Sista ... sista!!" I turned and right up on me, she quickly pressed a pair of wooden spoons tied with rough twine into my hand.
"For you ... and thank you." and she turned running back toward her post. Hands reached down grasping mine and pulled me onto the now departing truck.
What is the worth of a soul? Everything I have to give and more. Priceless in a partnership together.