After my husband’s death, I found a new job and, every day, I left a little money…

the same homeless man would be sitting there.

He was thin, with a gray beard, and always wore the same oversized brown coat. The cardboard sign in front of him simply read, “Just surviving.”

His name was Walter. Even when my budget was tight, I would always leave him a few bills. Sometimes five dollars, sometimes ten. I never expected anything in return.continue reading …