Coming Home

Twelve

New York was much different from the small town I was used to. Obviously, it was bigger, busier, louder. It was... more. More people, more buildings, more businesses, more jobs, more opportunities. Just more in general. I smiled to myself as I realized that this place was exactly what I needed--and it turned out to be so much more than just an escape or a fresh start.

My first night in New York was spent in a cozy oversized chair in a 24-hour coffee shop. The place was warm and inviting, giving off vibes that screamed "home." It was comforting, and I couldn't help but instantly feel like I belonged there. When I first walked into the cafe, it wasn't my intention to stay the night there; I'd ordered a coffee and curled up in the chair, pleased to people-watch for a few minutes. My coffee was practically untouched as I gazed out the large window and lost myself in the movement of the city. I couldn't believe my eyes; this place was nothing like where I came from. Maybe that was part of the appeal. And the fact that I was hundreds of miles away from everything that had hurt me that past year.

As I sat there, consumed by excitement and reveling in the new feeling of contentment I'd found, I was determined to make this fresh start something meaningful. Something worth giving up everything to chase after. I hadn't even noticed when my eyelids began to get heavy, nor when I snuggled deeper into the comfort of the plush seat. I was sound asleep before I even knew what was happening. The employees must have figured that I was harmless enough to stay, as they didn't bother waking me to ask me to leave. Their kindness to a complete stranger was heartwarming.

And that was only the beginning.

After several hours of snoozing in the comfortable chair, I awoke to the smell of breakfast, my stomach rumbling loudly at the appetizing scent. The owner of the shop, an elderly man with a warm smile, greeted me kindly as he placed a plate of hot food on the table in front of me. "You'd better eat up," he said, gesturing toward the food. "The morning rush will begin soon."

I stared at the man blankly, entirely dumbfounded by his generosity. I couldn't even formulate a response; my brain seemed to be wholly empty at the moment.

"I'll be at the counter when you're finished," the old man informed me, nodding his head slightly in the direction he was referring to. "Please, come and see me after."

As he walked away, I turned my eyes back to the steaming plate of delicious-smelling food. After a few seconds, hunger convinced me to accept his generous offer, and I greedily inhaled the eggs and toast. Before I knew it, the little coffee shop was packed full of customers. I suddenly felt self-conscious; it must have been obvious that I was homeless. Hesitantly, I grabbed the now empty plate and made my way through the crowd to the counter.

He was waiting for me there, the smile still present on his lips. "I don't suppose I could convince you to help an old man out?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

I looked at him curiously, my mouth unwilling to form a reply. Instead, I nodded my head, urging him to ask the favor that would allow me to repay his kindness.

"I could use some help bussing tables this morning," he stated, motioning a hand to the busy cafe. "I'd really appreciate it if you'd be willing to lend a hand."

Still unable to speak, I nodded vigorously, eager to help in any way I could after the unexpected acceptance and consideration he'd shown to a complete stranger. I immediately set to work bussing and cleaning, thankful for my previous experience as a waitress in that little old diner. After the rush ended and the customers began to clear out, I felt both exhausted and wholly satisfied. The owner approached me to thank me for my hard work, introducing himself as "Grandpa Jones." Mr. Jones and I made small talk for a few minutes before I was delivered a proposition from the man. He had told me that he was looking for good, hard workers and that I'd obviously proven myself with how I handled the morning rush. If I agreed to work for him, he would allow me to live in the apartment above the shop, free of rent.

I certainly couldn't refuse his generous offer. Not only did it earn me a job, a means to provide food for myself, and a place to stay, but I felt useful as I busied myself collecting dishes and wiping down tables. My eyes welled with tears as I replayed Mr. Jones's offer in my head before graciously accepting. As he smiled at me, I knew that standing before me was the kindest man I would ever meet.

I like to believe that it wasn't just a coincidence that I ended up in that coffee shop that day.

Mr. Jones and I had lunch together, and we discussed our new arrangement. I was beyond excited and incredibly thankful to work for him, and I made sure that those feelings were known. During our conversation, he had insisted that I refer to him as "Grandpa." The request warmed my heart, and I suddenly felt overwhelmed with emotions. This man who barely knew me had accepted me as part of his family, and we'd only just met. Afterward, he led me upstairs to check out my new apartment. The place was old and dusty, and it was apparent that it hadn't been lived in for quite a while. Cobwebs had collected in the corners, and the place was definitely in need of a good dusting. It looked like the apartment had been used for storage for a long time. Boxes lined the outer walls of the whole place, and the center of the living room was filled with many old and discarded items. I really had my work cut out for me with the endeavor, yet I couldn't have been more appreciative of the sweet old man and everything he'd done for me.

"It'll need some cleaning, I suppose," said Grandpa Jones, his eyes fondly searching around the area. "It's not much, but at least you'll have a place to sleep. You seem like a sweet kid; it'd be a shame if something happened to you."

My lips turned up in a smile as tears fell from my eyes, my heart ready to burst in my chest. "It's perfect," I replied gratefully. "Thank you."

Grandpa smiled warmly at me and patted me lovingly on the back before leaving me to the job of cleaning my new apartment.

That day, I was given more than just a "place to sleep." I was given a home, a place to belong. I was given an opportunity. I was given the love and care I so desperately needed. Most important of all, I was given Grandpa Jones.