by Kathryn LaVon Davis

Created on: April 04, 2010

Jasper.  She wondered about him.  She'd finally, after all these years, asked him his name.  Jasper.

Blue eyes pierced with wisdom, understanding, compassion and kindness and the presence of a gentle soul. He asked nothing of anyone, just went about his business with an aura of peace emanating from him. It was the peace that you imagine when you hear stories of Jesus. Every Monday through Friday she would see him at seven o'clock in the morning, for about three minutes. Every morning he wore the same look on his face, a peace attained by hardship, by hard knocks, by something great that was lost, grieved, angered over, and forgiven but never forgotten.  She sensed that his soul had come further in life than most souls do.

She dressed him up in her mind; slicked his long hair back, put him in a suit and jacket, no tie. He was handsome.  His eyes were even a brighter blue against the stark white dress shirt and black jacket.   His leather bracelets,handmade,poked out from the sleeves and added a certain masculinity.  She could see him attending an opening for his art work.  He had an artist's soul.  He created things, beautiful things.  He was not a business man.  He was simple in his needs.

There had been some grief.  The aura of wisdom had come from it.  Had he lost a child?  A wife?  Had he been in a war?  What happened to this man to bring him here every day?  What did he want to do when he was eight?  Ten?  Fifteen?  What happened when he was twenyt?  Thirty?  Was he forty yet?  Questions came from her that she wanted to ask him, but she knew she would not.

He was ageless and silent.  Outside of his name, Jasper, she'd not heard him speak, could not see if his teeth were cared for or if they were a tell-tale sign of what his life had been.  Against his tanned skin, she imagined them white and straight.  He didn't smoke, in all of these years, she'd never seen him smoke, not in those three minutes of every morning that they faced each other.

He never looked at her.  His eyes took in eveyrthing before him, with no gaze upon anyone.

She gave him her dollar and said "No, keep the paper.  You have a great day," as she did every Monday through Friday.  The traffic light turned green and she drove on.  By the time she got to work, she thought no more about Jasper, and wondered no more about the homeless.

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