The Little Shamrock

by on January 17th, 2011
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One cold morning during the month of February a man found himself walking the streets with little or no hope of survival. The day was cold and dreary, his feet wanted to give in and as he walked on his will slowly eroded. The man like many other homeless people was a forgotten soul that no one cared for any longer. As time went on nothing seemed to look up for this noble homeless man.

The man’s face had a greying beard while his head was adorned with a broken fedora. The man’s clothes were gray and full of holes and he supported himself on an old walking stick that spoke volumes of whom he may have once been in this life. The man slept sometimes in a bench and sometimes under the overpass. The man walked with dignity and conducted himself in that very same manner. As he walked on that February day he stumbled upon a beautiful green shamrock. The man smiled and started walking with a spring in his step.

Every day after the man found his little shamrock the man continued to to look up and feel like a million dollars. February would come and go and March would arrive. The man would bear witness to various preparations for St. Patrick’s Day through his city each day. As the poor homeless man witnessed the happiness and jubilation over the patron saint of Ireland he smiled. The weather was not always the best one but there was a feeling that life would change.

One fine morning prior to St. Patrick’s day the man witnessed someone running like crazy. The man noticed that the youngster he witnessed running dropped something. The old man picked it up and noticed it was a lottery ticket. The old man picked it up and ran with all his energy and screamed ” Young man, you dropped your ticket.” The young man heard and he ran back to the exhausted homeless man. The old man dropped to his knees clutching his chest. The youngster looked at him and asked “Why sir?” The old man smiled at the youngster and responded “The luck of the Irish visited you lad.” The young man called for an ambulance and took charge of the old man’s trip to the hospital.

The next day was St. Patrick’s day and floats, green beads and silly hats adorned the street. The young man was a new millionaire and he went back to his hospital vigil. The old man passed on, his heart had grown weak and his health could no longer take what time had done to him. When he came back the young man asked about his friend and a Dr. responded “he died” and pointed out that he would be on the common grave. The young man responded “No” and after a slight pause he said “That was my friend.” The funeral would take place and would only be attended by the youngster. Every week there after the youngster would place fresh flowers on a grave reading “Lucky Friend, Life’s Shamrock.”


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