Painful roses

"Would you like to buy some flowers ?" .. In a world full of anger and pain, he managed to say those words in such an amazing combination of politeness and hope that pulled me smoothly to look at him, A young boy moving actively between cars distributing his smiles among furious drivers who don't seem to see him at all. shortly he approach our car and repeated his regular question .." would you like to buy some flowers ?! "

I unintentionally didn't answer. His big green starry eyes telling a story of a lifetime of dreams, determination and struggle. Holding the roses with his tiny arms surrounded by their green leaves that shares the same greenness and innocence with his eyes. the roses appeared huge compared with his short small body, yet some how he looked unexplainable mature.

I tried to give him some money, he refused nicely moving his head and waving his dusty hands with dignified smile like he is saying " buy or ignore me like others " , when he waved with his childish hand I could see clearly the cuts and bruises that redefined my perspective of suffering.

He seemed to hold in his pouch more than few roses. it seemed to me he is full of dreams .. hopes .. plans .. and roses are the only ones for sale.

I didn't ask about his name because I knew it would be misleading like his appearance. his story can tell much more about who he really is, what he is made from than his non chosen name. For some reason he didn't talk or move to another car like he was enjoying that some one can see beyond the dirty clothes and the long roses. I wondered can he see beyond the fancy car and the expensive sunglasses. he answered my question by giving me an old note book he was hiding in his shirt, I eagerly opened, it was full of drawings and simple words explaining them. it was his dream journal, he knew that i would need it more than he do, he could see right through me.

As happy I was with his gift and thrilled to meet him, I was shy that I'm so poor inside that i have nothing to give him back.

And here I am learning through his eyes that the heaviest luggage that you could possibly carry is your thoughts and beliefs. and the dream inside me is only as strong and real as I want it to be.

I'll never forget the day that I met the child who taught me how to dream. I hope that one day I will be lucky enough to meet him again to see what a great man he turned to be.

As the car started to move again, my only regret was that I never answered his question.