Helping Hands at the River
The most surprising helping hand came from down river. We hadn’t seen anyone else on the beach until then.
My son and I had gone to the river early that morning, before the unbearable heat of the day and the crowds. We hadn’t been there very long when Will stepped on glass and cut his foot.
I rinsed his foot with bottled water, but I had nothing for first aid. The kid was disappointed when I said we’d have to go home. He pleaded to stay, just a little while.
“It’s not that bad, Mom.”
But it was bleeding and needed attention.
Then, out of the west comes this cool, long-haired dude with a backpack, walking like he’s going to work. He nods and greets us as he approaches.
My son asks, “Hey man, Have you got a band-aid?”
Not only does he have a band-aid, he has disinfectant spray! He kindly doctored up my son’s foot and continued on his way up-river.
On the way home, my son said he thought the dude was kind of an angel. He seemed to come out of nowhere and had just what we needed.
On that same beach, different morning, my son and I encountered another sort of helping hand. Will noticed a creep in the bushes, uphill from us, watching us, helping himself with his hand, if you get my drift.
That man was no angel.
We stopped going to that beach.