A Thirst for Respect: Finding Humanity in the Park

Today we met a troubled man.
A hungry man. A thirsty man.
A sad looking man.

He limped slowly to a group of people celebrating next to us in the park.
to ask for some food. I stared at him for long when my soul, Compassion said "look at his face. The poor man. He's beaten up."
And he was. Skin looking burned. His face swollen, his body full of wounds.
I walked up to him and gave him all my change and asked him if he was alright. Interestingly, he said "yes".

He wasn't lying.
I wished him well and walked away.
But he followed me. When he came close, a couple of feet and two trees between us, I stood up, and asked him again "Are you okay? Everything okay?" And he answered "yes", still munching, mouth full jamming the leftovers in with his filthy hands. I was calm yet firm in not letting him near my beloved and my son. He took out a bottle of apple juice, but couldn't open it. Asked me to open it for him.
So I did. I opened the bottle for him so he could quench his thirst. I washed my hands after many times and felt a bit stupid that my kindness got the best of me yet again, risking my health, and risking touching those whom I love.

But wouldn't you help a thirsty man quench his thirst and then find a bench to rest on, on a hot sunny day?
I think he felt it, the world looking at him with disgust. His thirst to be recognized, his hunger for respect and attention would never be satisfied.
Except for that one moment. When me and my family smiled at him honestly, waved and said "Ciao".
He smiled, waved and said "Ciao" back.
And my son smiled today for the first time.