warmth

I had just pulled off the highway in Springfield, Missouri, when I saw him.

Still, I turned into Applebees where I planned on getting a quick bite. I wanted to eat and run, to get across Missouri quickly, because I had editing to do once I got to my hotel in St. Louis.

But I had seen him. I couldn't un-see him. And his sign beckoned to me: "Cold. Wet. Hungry."

So I parked my car at Applebees and walked to the nearest crosswalk. He was on the other side of the street, sitting on the ground, head ducked into his coat with the sign in front of him.

It was a dreary day. Overcast skies, 55 degrees and drizzling rain that looked like it would soon turn into something more.

As I neared the man with the sign he looked up. He was young--in his 20s--and handsome, with deep brown eyes. But unlike the man I met last week (read EMBRACE CHARITY for his story), this kid looked--and smelled-- homeless.

"Do you want to have lunch with me?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, quickly jumping to his feet.

"Is Applebees okay?"

"Yes," he said again, then offered me his hand. "I'm Robert."

We crossed the street together. He opened the door to the restaurant for me, saying, "Go ahead sweetheart," casually, as if this were a standing date and he wasn't wearing flannel pajama pants.

"I've never been inside an Applebees," he whispered to me across the booth once we were seated. The way he said "inside" made me think he'd been sitting outside this one for quite some time.

We looked at the menus for awhile and he told me to order first. "Grilled cheese and tomato soup," I said.

"Make that two," he told the waitress.

He talked and we ate. He talked some more, becoming more comfortable by the minute, and we ate some more. And then he just kept talking.

"Do either of you want a brownie?" our waitress finally asked.

I looked at Robert. "Do you?"

"Everyone loves brownies," he said quietly, by way of answer.

"And ice cream," I told the waitress.

Robert talked some more and we ate some more.

After two and a half hours of talking and eating I left our waitress a fat tip for letting us stay there so long, for looking Robert in the eye when she talked to him, for refilling our drinks repeatedly and giving us to-go cups, for not making us feel like we needed to leave the warmth of the restaurant before we were ready.

When we did finally leave, the sun had come out and the temperature raised by 10 degrees.

Robert hugged me goodbye and suddenly seemed shy again. "Thank you for the meal," he whispered. "I haven't talked to anyone, really talked I mean, for a long time."

"Thank you for the company," I smiled.

And we went our separate ways. Him back to the street. Me to my car, the interstate, the hotel and editing that waited for me in St. Louis.

But I think we both left a little warmer.

EMBRACE WARMTH.

A warm restaurant. Soup and grilled cheese. Dry clothes. Hours of conversation. New friends. A listening ear. Knowing someone cares. Doing something for someone who can never repay you. Forgetting about deadlines in order to spend time with someone who needs you... Warmth comes in many forms.