His Name Was Michael

I walked up the steps to the top of a hill, and saw him. He was an elderly man, struggling, breathing hard, and in need of help on this hot and sultry day. In time I found that his name was Michael.

"Shall I carry your bags?" I asked. There were two bags, and they were big.

"Okay," he said, and I retrieved one bag. Great Scott! That bag seemed heavy enough to injure a much younger man. I set it back down.

"Michael, I am going to get us some help. Would you like to sit and rest on this step?" He did, and in no time there was a small army surrounding the man. We seemed to gather them like a rolling snow ball - except that a snow ball would be melting in all this heat. 

The men said things like,

"Of course!"

or, "Love to help!"

or, "What can I do?"

The younger men carried the bags as Michael clutched his stick.

 "I should never have gotten so many groceries in Hayle."

"Hayle!" I said. You went all the way to Hayle?"

"Well, I did. On the bus." We walked in silence, for a while. Then finally, ""I don't know what I would have done without you." he said. "I was at the end of my rope before you came along."

When we reached his home, the little army went their way as we talked about what we should do next. 

Michael said, "I have a daughter in Carbis Bay."

"Let's call her!" I chimed. 

And we did. Then had a nice 'cuppa' because for the Brits, it will always be Tea. No matter what Michael or anyone else goes through on any given day, tea is the:

Universal Remedy. 

Liquid Therapy.

Comforting Beverage.

Universally Offered in time of need.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady