Whenever I left my office, I would notice the homeless man sitting at the corner of the street. He was always carrying a kit and was occasionally fixing people’s shoes in exchange for a couple of dollars.
Something about this man felt comforting, like the warmth of an old friend.
I would sometimes greet him, but other times, I would just stare at him and then leave.
One day, I stopped and asked him if he could fix one of my shoes. He took it and said it would take him around twenty minutes. While I waited, I realized how skillful he was. He introduced himself as Jeff, and we said hi to one another every day after that.
During a cold and bitter day, I spotted Jeff on the street. Before I got in my car, I asked him where he was spending the night.
With sadness in his eyes, he told me that the shelter was full for the night but that he would manage. It was obvious it wasn’t the first time he was outside during freezing weather.
I felt sorry, and without giving it a second thought, I offered him to spend the night in my basement. It wasn’t much, but there was a bed there, and it would be better than being outside.
Jeff’s eyes beamed with hope, but he was hesitant to accept my offer, which he said was more than generous.
Upon insisting, this homeless man finally agreed to come with me.
I spoke to my husband and explained that something in me told me to bring Jeff home. My hubby, as understanding as always, said he trusted my judgement.
The following morning, the entire house smelled of freshly made pancakes. My kids were overjoyed and the moment they saw me, they said, “Mom, Jeff is so fun.”
He on the other hand felt a bit embarrassed and apologized for getting into the kitchen. I just smiled and said I appreciated it.
Later that day, I went to the basement to check on Jeff and saw that he fixed a bunch of things, including a broken chair and the leaking faucet.
For reasons unknown, I felt like Jeff belonged there. I talked to my husband and told him I wanted us to have him for the winter.
“But for the winter only,” he said, and I agreed.
When I told Jeff that he could stay, he was overwhelmed.
Both the kids and I loved having Jeff in our lives. As days passed by, we bonded and formed a beautiful relationship.
But it was when I showed him the old family albums that something in him changed. I noticed he felt uneasy when he saw the photo of my mom, but I convinced myself I was just imagining things.
But no, I knew I was right when I realized Jeff was gone.
On the couch in the basement, he left the box he always carried with him. Inside was a photo of him from his young days with a baby in his arms. On the back of the photo, it was written, “Jeff and Ellie, 1986.”
Ellie, that was my name.
There was also a letter. When I read it, I understood that sense of comfort I felt in the presence of the homeless man.
Jeff explained that he and my mom met when they were both very young and then she fell pregnant with me. Things were fine between them until he cheated on her and she found out. It was a mistake he regretted over and over again, but my mom decided to cut him off of our lives. She took me and left. He tried to find us, but to no avail.
These words shocked me. My mom always told me my dad abandoned us.
I was furious and called her to confront her.
She admitted she lied to me because she was too hurt because of his affair.
I tried to find Jeff. I was going around and my heart skipped a beat whenever I would see a homeless man, hoping it was my father.
Months passed by, and I finally spotted him one day.
He looked sadder and smaller than before. When I approached him, he started crying and begged me to forgive him. “I already have, dad,” I said and hugged him.
I knew he truly regretted cheating on my mom all those years ago, and I knew he was a man with a heart of gold who deserved a second chance.
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Bored Daddy
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