The older man sitting at the bus shelter with a small round cake in his lap and candles lighted and flickering in the morning breeze caught my attention as soon as I turned the corner. No groceries, no bag, and no indication that they were heading anywhere. Simply waiting.
I nearly passed by. Perhaps he was meeting someone, I thought. But I stopped for some reason because he was so motionless.
He took a moment to look up. simply stared at the cake as if it could reveal something to him that he was unaware of.
“Are you waiting for someone?” I inquired gently.
He gave a half-hearted smile. “No, not precisely,” he replied. “I simply didn’t want to spend my days indoors.” I reasoned that perhaps someone might wish me a good birthday out here.
He informed me about his 87th birthday.
said that his daughter left the state.
claimed that although the neighbors used to visit, they now “have their own lives.”
He purchased the cake from the local grocery on his own. The clerk didn’t even inquire as to its purpose.
He said, “I lit the candles because it felt weird not to.”
I took a seat beside him. I told him that I was happy he left home. And he looked good in that 87.
“You’re the first person I’ve talked to all day,” he remarked with a quiet laugh.
He then inquired, gesturing to the second plastic fork he had slipped into his jacket pocket—
Are you willing to give me a piece?
So we did.
There, on a chilly metal seat, as folks hurried toward whatever Monday had in store for them and cars sped by.
The wax from the candles was still soft when we ate the chocolate cake. He related to me his previous position at the post office. About how, at the age of 19, he met his wife at a church dance. They wrapped old books and reread them together because they couldn’t afford gifts that year.
I inquired about his all-time favorite birthday.
He pondered for some time. Then he grinned and remarked, “Actually, it might be this one. Because I had no expectations for today. Then someone took a seat.
I will never forget that moment.
I was powerless to alter his history. I was unable to overcome my loneliness. However, I could ensure that he wasn’t invisible for a single morning.
I asked if I may snap a photo of him holding his cake before I left.
Yes, he said, but only if I joined in.
So we grinned. Frosting on our hands, crumbs on our coats. Twenty minutes of silence and one store-bought cake helped two strangers become less odd.
I overheard him remark, mainly to himself, as I was leaving, “I guess someone did care after all.”
This is what I’ve discovered:
People don’t always desire much.
merely to be observed.
to draw attention.
to be taken seriously enough to pause and sit.
Therefore, perhaps take a seat for a bit if you see someone waiting, whether they have coffee, cake, or simply weary eyes.
Perhaps you are the only one.
If you think that no one should celebrate their birthday alone, please share this. If you believe that kindness ought to be as widespread as candles, you’ll like it.
