“I NEED TO DO SOMETHING! I can’t just ignore them!” — Ethan reflected, watching the homeless individuals huddled on the benches. It was freezing outside, and every day on his walk to his night shift, he saw them shivering.
Responsible for his three children and working as a night janitor, Ethan barely managed to provide basic necessities. He knew the sting of poverty intimately. He often skipped meals so his kids could have seconds. Still, whenever he saw those cold and weary shapes, he remembered his own struggles with hunger and isolation.
He didn’t have cash to spare, but he had something else. One day, after selling his old toolbox, Ethan was able to purchase some affordable blankets and a bit of food. That toolbox was his prized possession, inherited from his father, but he figured people needed warmth more than he needed tools.
He went to the park early. He packed them up, arranged them on a bench, and placed a hand-written note on the top: “These blankets are not lost! If you are cold, without [a home, please take one].”
He watched from a distance as a few people woke up, found the bundles, and wrapped themselves in the warmth, tears streaming down their faces. Ethan walked to work feeling lighter than he had in years.
The next evening, he walked past the same bench. The blankets were gone, but there was something taped to the backrest. A small, cream-colored envelope.
Curious, Ethan peeled it off. On the front, in elegant handwriting, it said: “To the man who left the blankets.”
Inside was a letter and a check.
The letter read: “I am not homeless, but my brother was. He passed away on this bench three years ago because of the cold. I come here every week to sit and remember him. Yesterday, I saw you leave those blankets. I saw you sell your tools at the pawnshop down the street to pay for them—I was in the shop behind you. You have a heart of gold, sir. I own a construction firm, and we are desperately looking for a site manager with integrity. Please accept this check to buy your tools back, and call the number below for a job interview. — Mr. Henderson”
The check was for $5,000.
Ethan fell to his knees right there in the snow. He called the number. Today, Ethan isn’t a night janitor anymore; he’s a site manager, and his children have never gone hungry since. He still buys blankets every winter, but now, he doesn’t have to sell his tools to do it.
