Dear Peggy

Sitting in my car waiting for laundry to finish washing, I hear Hi Debbie. Startled a bit, I look up to see Peggy, the precious soul who helped me last week. "Well, Hi Peggy!"

First words out of her mouth were, "Are you eating tuna?" (You see, last week I was eating a pouch of tuna in between washing and drying clothes.)  No, I tell her, I didn't bring anything today. (I didn't think about bringing anything to eat. No big deal.) I'll eat when I get home. She tries to hand me money, telling me after seeing me last week she regretted not asking me to lunch. NO PEGGY, OH NO. NO, I reply, protesting, absolutely not. She tells me it's only eight dollars, that's all she has, she wishes it was more. I'm about to die, about to cry, no exaggeration. NO MA'AM I tell her again. 

She's persistent, that Peggy. "You've been through hard times lately," she tells me, referring to my crutches.

"But I'm okay Peggy! I like tuna! And do I look like I don't eat? NO. I have food at home, waiting for me."

She tells me it would make her feel better if I took her money. NO. We hug, bless her, God bless her. I'm thinking we've settled this. She slips the money onto my dash and walks away. 

Those eight dollars are not mine, NOT MINE. Did you read, it's all she has? She didn't give out of her abundance; she gave all she had. 

I'm looking forward to passing this money on to someone else, someone much more deserving than me. 

Tears. 

I see good people.