In desperation, I took a short cut through the alley, hoping to find shelter from the howling, blowing wind, and the bone chilling cold.
The night is very dark and I am in a strange city. I’m afraid that the directions to the Hostel that I was given may only lead to danger.
My sneaker clad feet are numb and my gloveless hands ache from the bitter cold.
I am exhausted and at this point the only thing I can think of is to slide down in a doorway and give in to my despair. There are no other people around, the shops are closed and I am alone in my isolation. I hear a voice call out, “only a few steps more.”
Where is that coming from, I wonder as I look around at this deserted street. Pushing myself, one foot in front of the other,
I pause and close my eyes for only a second or was it longer? I jerk awake and as I open my eyes I see a cozy little shop with warm light cheerily spilling out onto the sidewalk.
There is an Open sign in the window. That’s odd. Only a moment before the street was dark and eerie. Too cold and numb to think, I tried turning the door knob which quietly turned, opening the door into an ancient antique shop speaking to simpler times.
“Come in, come in” an elderly woman cried, “come warm yourself by the fire.”
She put an arm around my shoulders trying to keep me upright and guided me to a deep, comfortable, over stuffed chair that enveloped my body and cushioned me in warmth so exquisite that I fell instantly asleep.
Sometime later, or was it minutes, I awake with a start as this sweet rescuer gently touches my shoulder asking me if I wanted to share some tea and bread with her. Trying not to show my intense hunger, I agree.
She places a white tablecloth on an antique oak table. She pours a cup of tea for each of us and places a loaf of bread on a lovely china plate, “Please,” she states, “help yourself.”
As I eat the most delicious bread I have ever eaten and drink the invigorating tea she asks me what brings me out to this part of town at this time of night.
I explain that I am a stranger in town and looking for a Hostel that I was given directions to by a passerby.
“Oh” she states, “ that is just around the corner. You are almost there after your long journey. A kind person will assist you but you do have the energy and the will to walk there on your own. You will be well taken care of after all you have faced.”
How did she know anything about my affairs and what brought me here? “How do you?”
I begin to ask when someone begins shaking me, yelling, “Sir, Sir, can you hear me? What is your name? Wake up. Call 911” a police person shouts to her partner. I am slowly becoming aware of my surroundings on this dark desolate street and ask her how I ended up here after I remember having tea in the antique shop with the owner.
“There is no antique shop on this street any more,” she states, “but at one time there was a shop behind the doorway we found you in, and the owner was well known for her baked goods and tea. She was respected for her abilities to take in and care for desperate people who had lost their way. In fact she raised the money and built a Hostel just around the corner.”
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