While I was cleaning trays behind the counter, I observed the man standing just outside the entrance. Flannel clothing that looked old, a plastic bag over one shoulder, and eyes that were nice yet tired. He thought about it for a second before going in. When he walked in, the smell of old clothes and street dust came with him.
It wasn’t strange; we’re right off the highway, so folks walk in looking for warmth instead of Whoppers. I was about to say hi to him, but my son Nevan, who is 12, beat me to it. He was sitting in the booth next to the soda fountain, eating the last of his fries while he waited for my shift to end.
The man stepped up to the counter and said in a very low voice, “What can I get for 50 cents?”
Nevan spoke out from his chair before I could say anything. He said, “Are you hungry?” in a way that made it sound like he was talking to a friend. The man smiled and agreed.
Nevan got up, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a crumpled five-dollar cash. He had saved it from two weekends of raking leaves for his allowance. He asked me, “Can he get a meal with this?” and then he offered it to me.
I don’t know what wounded me more: that my kid offered without thinking, or that he didn’t look at me once to ask for permission. He just went ahead and did it.
The man looked at Nevan like he couldn’t believe what he saw. He said, “That’s too much,” and tried to give the money back.
But Nevan only shrugged. “I was going to use it on Roblox,” he said. “But you probably need it more than I need a pixel sword.”
I ordered a discount lunch and gave the man an extra cup of water. He sat by the window and handled the tray like it was made of gold.
Nevan went back to his booth as nothing had occurred. He didn’t even wait for a thank you.
But it wasn’t the weird thing.
About twenty minutes later, the man got up, walked to the door, and then paused. He turned back and said he wanted to talk to me alone. His eyes were like glass.
Then he said something that shocked me.
I went with him to the side of the dining area, near the condiment station. “Look,” he began, his voice wavering a little, “I’m… Sorry for taking your son’s money. It’s just that… He stopped and took a deep breath to calm down. “I lost my job a few months ago.” I wanted to go to Kansas City to visit my cousin, but I didn’t have enough money for the bus. I have been saving coins in the hopes that they will last. He looked at Nevan, who was now watching a little kid play with the restaurant’s plastic crown. “Your son… He reminded me of my son.
My shoulders began to hurt. Martell, the dad, told me that he hadn’t seen his child in over a year. He added, “I messed up my life,” and it cost me my wife and, for a period, my son. Martell tapped his shirt pocket and then carefully pulled out a little picture of a smiling child. The boy was probably a little younger than Nevan. “I keep this picture with me to remind me of what I’m working for.” I’m trying to acquire steady work so I can mend things and see him again.
He dropped the picture because his hands were shaking so much. I bent down, picked it up, and then gently gave it back to him. “Sorry,” I murmured, not knowing what else to say. My heart was beating fast. I looked at the picture. The boy’s face lit up with joy, exactly like Nevan’s did when he knew he had done the right thing.
Martell put the photo back in his pocket. He remarked, “Your child is a good person.” “Don’t take that for granted.”
I nodded and said thank you in a courteous way. I stood by the ketchup dispenser for a while after he left, thinking about how many times I had yelled at Nevan for things like not cleaning his room, drawing on his homework, or forgetting to take out the trash. But seeing how happy he was to give me what little he had at the time changed how I thought of him. The shift manager called me to help wipe the tables, but I was too busy to do anything else for the rest of my shift.
When we got home, Nevan headed to the living room to play his game. Normally, I would have told him to finish his homework first or at least take a shower, but that night I let him go ahead without stopping him. I didn’t do it. Instead, I went to my room, took off my shoes, and stared at the ceiling fan for a few minutes to try to figure things out.
Why did my kid just give away his cash? I knew that the solution to the question was simple. He handed it to the man since he knew he was hungry, and Nevan thought it was more important than getting a better game. It was so easy that it destroyed my heart and made me feel like I was two inches tall. We grownups sometimes get so busy and agitated that we forget how easy it is to be kind.
The next day, I was going to do something amazing. After school, Nevan and I went grocery shopping, and I let him pick out a few things he liked. Then I asked, “Would you like to pick out a few more things to put in a gift bag for someone who needs it?” He was thrilled to choose some hearty soup cans, crackers, and a few snack bars. We also got a fresh pair of socks because I remembered hearing that socks are one of the most needed but least donated items in homeless shelters.
I wasn’t sure if or when we would see Martell again, but I wanted us to be ready. Nevan got silent while we were checking out. He looked up at me and asked, “Do you think that guy made it to Kansas City?” I shrugged. “Me too, friend,” I said. “I really do.”
On Friday, Nevan came to work with me again. He liked to bring his homework and a few comic books, and he also liked getting free refills of Coke. An hour into the night, the door opened, and Martell came in, just like he said he would. This time, he seemed a little more sure of himself. He noticed Nevan, nodded his head in greeting, and then walked to the bathroom to wash his hands.
I quickly put together the gift bag we had made and asked Nevan to help me give it to Martell. When Martell came out of the bathroom, Nevan walked up and gently handed him the bag. Martell looked inside, and his eyes were full of gratitude. He cleared his throat and continued, “That’s… this is great.” Thank you.
Nevan shrugged, which is what he always does. He said, “Hope it helps,” as if it weren’t a big thing. But I knew that was a major issue for Martell.
Martell stayed for a while and had a little coffee. I stopped working to talk since business was slow. He stated he was planning to take the bus the next day because he had enough spare change and a little extra from doing odd tasks around the truck stop. He also said, “I’m going to see my cousin in Kansas City.” I aim to get my life back on track after that. He ran his fingers over his short, gray hair. He thought about it for a little while. “If I can get there on time for the new hiring batch, I might be able to get a job in a warehouse.”
Something unexpected happened right then and there. A friend of mine named Paige, who worked at the restaurant across the street, came in to get an order to go. She knew Martell since she had worked in a Kansas City (State of Missouri) warehouse a long time ago. They talked, and she said she would call her old supervisor to see if there were any jobs that would be a good fit for Martell’s skills. He seemed like he was terribly stressed out, like all the affection around him was too much for him.
When Paige departed, Martell stared at me. “I didn’t think so many people would be out here trying to help me when I woke up this morning.” He looked at Nevan, who had gone back to reading a comic book. “Your son changed the way I saw things. You can forget how lovely people can be when life is hard.
The next day was a mix of hope and terror. Nevan and I drove to the bus station before my job. It was a little, run-down facility with only one vending machine and a few plastic benches. We noticed Martell in line with his old bag. When he saw us, his face lit up with a smile.
He said in a low voice, “You really came.”
“We wanted to say goodbye,” Nevan said. “And good luck.”
Martell laid down his suitcase and took out an old picture of his child. “If all goes well, I might see my son again by Christmas.” That’s what I desire. He checked the bus timetable on the wall, then turned back to us with a smile that made us feel good. “Your kindness pushed me to do what I needed to do.”
The bus came a few minutes later. Martell got on, waved goodbye, and then disappeared among the sea of worn-out seats and bags. We walked back to our car, and our emotions felt lighter than normal. We didn’t say anything on the drive back. We didn’t have to.
Life went on in our small community, with days blurring into each other. I maintained working my shifts while Nevan went back to school. We would talk about how Martell was doing from time to time. Another month went by, and then another. Winter brought the Christmas frenzy.
Then, while I was at work one night, I got a call. Paige had come over and was out of breath. She also said that Martell had located her through her old supervisor. He was safe in Kansas City, and the greatest part was that he got the job at the warehouse. He wanted to let us know that he was fine and that things were getting better. Paige said to the little guy, “Thanks and happy holidays.”
I encountered Nevan in the break room with a styrofoam cup of hot chocolate and told him the news. He didn’t yell, jump up, or do anything like that. He only nodded and grinned a little, which spoke more than any words could. I put my arm around his shoulder. I told him, “I’m proud of you.”
Nevan shrugged for the tenth time. “It cost only five dollars.”
But at that moment, I realized it was worth a lot more than five dollars. It was a symbol of hope, a chance for people to connect, and maybe even the time that transformed someone else’s life.
That day, Nevan taught me a few things. For instance, compassion doesn’t have to come with strings attached, and a small act of kindness can make a great difference. It’s not always about big gestures. Sometimes all you need to do is see someone as a person who needs help instead of just a stranger you meet.
We may never be sure when a tiny act of kindness will affect the direction of someone else’s life, or even our own. Seeing Nevan made me reflect about how our kids often see the world more plainly than we do, without fear, pride, or cynicism standing in the way. We may learn from them and remember the good things that stress makes us forget about.
In the end, Martell made it to Kansas City, Missouri. He got the job, and maybe soon he’ll be able to fix things with his family. None of this would have happened if a hungry man hadn’t walked into our restaurant with 50 cents in his pocket. Without thinking, my kid gave him five crumpled dollars.
What did you take away from this? Don’t forget how strong your kindness is. We might think it’s not a huge deal—a few bucks, a smile, a hot meal—but to someone else, that generosity could be what helps them believe in themselves again. If a 12-year-old can see that, we can all have hope.