As the union meeting ended, I found myself near the food table. One of my union sisters was collecting all the leftovers, combining them into one container per food type (it was Thai food: rice, curry, stirfry, etc.).
“Can you help me?” she asked. She told me to hold one large bin of white rice while she scooped. I did so.
“I’m taking this to the shelter,” she explained.
I immediately thought of those less fortunate, who can’t work a job or can’t find a job. I felt some mixed emotions that we had plenty, but they got our leftovers.
“I’m glad it’s not going to waste,” I said.
“Take some if you want it!” she said.
“Oh, I can’t eat any of it.” To her questioning face, I added “I’m on Atkins.”
“What? How about the chicken?”
I shook my head.
Trust me, I thought, I have more than enough food for me. Too much, even. Especially after you tell me that this is going to the folks who have to live in a homeless shelter, I’m not going to touch a single drop or crumb.
Them today, me tomorrow.
