I Bought Shawarma and Coffee for a Homeless Man – He Gave Me a Note That Changed Everything

On a frigid winter evening, I purchased shawarma for a homeless man and his dog. At that moment, it felt like a mere gesture of goodwill. However, when he discreetly handed me a note that alluded to a forgotten chapter of my life, I realized this encounter was far from ordinary.

I had been employed at a sporting goods store in a downtown mall for many years. After 17 years of marriage, raising two teenagers, and enduring countless late shifts, I believed I had seen it all. Yet, life has a peculiar way of surprising us.

That particular day had been especially challenging, as holiday shoppers were demanding refunds for items they had clearly used. Additionally, one of the registers was malfunctioning, and my daughter, Amy, had texted me about her struggles with yet another math test, prompting us to consider hiring a tutor.

These concerns weighed heavily on my mind as my shift came to a close. To make matters worse, the temperature had plummeted to a bone-chilling 26.6°F.

As I stepped outside, the wind howled between the buildings, sending loose papers swirling across the sidewalk. I tightened my coat, longing for the warm bath that awaited me at home.

While heading to the bus, I noticed the shawarma stand that had been a fixture in the area for nearly as long as I had worked at the store. It was nestled between a shuttered flower shop and a dimly lit convenience store.

Steam billowed from the grill, mingling with the crisp air. The aroma of roasted meat and spices was almost enticing enough to make me stop. However, I had never been fond of the vendor, a stocky man with deep-set frown lines.

Though the food was delicious and served quickly, I was not in the mood to deal with any negativity that day.
A shawarma stand operated by a vendor on a frigid, snowy, and windy day | Source: Midjourney

I paused when I noticed a homeless man accompanied by his dog approaching the stand. The man, appearing to be around 55 years old, looked visibly cold and hungry as he gazed at the rotating meat.

He wore a thin coat, and the unfortunate puppy was nearly hairless. My heart ached for them.

“Are you going to order something or just loiter?” the vendor’s harsh voice interrupted my thoughts.

I observed the homeless man muster his courage. “Sir, could I please have some hot water?” he inquired, his shoulders hunched in defeat.

Homeless man with a dog in front of a shawarma stand on a snowy day | Source: Midjourney

Regrettably, I anticipated the vendor’s response before he even spoke. “GET LOST! This isn’t a charity!” he shouted.

As the dog moved closer to its owner, I noticed the man’s shoulders sag. At that moment, my grandmother’s face appeared in my memory.

She had shared stories of her difficult childhood, emphasizing how a single act of kindness had rescued her family from hunger. That lesson remained etched in my mind, and although I couldn’t always assist, her words resonated:

“Kindness costs nothing but can change everything.”
A grandmother on a rocking chair, smiling in front of a fireplace in a cozy home | Source: Midjourney

Before I realized it, I found myself speaking. “Two coffees and two shawarmas.”

The vendor nodded and swiftly prepared my order. “$18,” he stated flatly as he placed the items on the counter.

I handed over the money, took the to-go bag and a tray, and hurried to catch up with the homeless man.

When I presented him with the food, his hands trembled.

“God bless you, child,” he murmured.

I nodded awkwardly, eager to return home and escape the biting cold. However, his raspy voice halted me.
A woman in her late 30s is seen smiling while holding a to-go bag on a snowy street. | Source: Midjourney

“Wait.” I turned to see him pulling out a pen and paper, quickly jotting something down before presenting it to me. “Read it at home,” he said, wearing an unusual smile.

I nodded and tucked the note into my pocket, my thoughts already drifting to whether there would be seats available on the bus and what I might prepare for dinner.

That evening, life continued as normal. My son, Derek, required assistance with his science project. Amy voiced her frustrations about her math teacher. My husband, Tom, shared details about a new client at his law firm. A mother assisting her son with homework | Source: Midjourney

The note remained forgotten in my coat pocket until I began sorting clothes for laundry the following evening.

I unfolded the crumpled paper and read the message:

“Thank you for saving my life. You may not realize it, but you have already saved it once before.”

Beneath the message was a date from three years prior and the name “Lucy’s Café.”

The garments I was holding nearly slipped from my grasp. Lucy’s had been my go-to lunch spot before it closed down. A cozy café | Source: Midjourney

In an instant, I recalled that day vividly. A thunderstorm had struck, and many people sought refuge in the café.

A man had stumbled inside, drenched and with a look in his eyes that conveyed desperation, not merely for food, but for something more.

No one else paid him any attention except for me. The waitress nearly turned him away, but I heard my grandmother’s voice echoing in my mind.

So, I decided to buy him a coffee and a croissant.