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Hi ,There
It was Sunday，Christmas．Our family had spent the holidays in San Francisco with my husband's parents．But in order for us to be back at work on Monday，we found ourselves driving the 400miles back home to Los Angeles on Christmas Day．We stopped for lunch in King city．The restaurant was nearly empty．We were the only family and ours were the only children．I heard Erik，my one－year－old，squeal with glee：“Hi there．Hi there．”He pounded his fat baby hands－－whack，whack－－on the metal highchair tray．His face was alive with excitement，eyes wide，gums bared in a toothless grin．He wriggled1)，and chirped，and giggled，and then I saw the source of his merriment2)．．．and my eyes could not take it all in at once．
A tattered3) rag of a coat obviously bought by someone else eons4) ago －－dirty，greasy5)，and worn．．．baggy pants，spindly body－－toes that poked out of would－be shoes．．．a shirt that had ring－around－the－color all over，and a face like none other．．．gums as bare as Erik's．“Hi there，baby；hi there，big boy．I see ya，buster．”My husband and I exchanged a look that was a cross between “What do we do？”and “Poor devil．”
Our meal came，and the cacophony continued．Now the old bum6) was shouting from across the room：“Do ya know patty cake？Atta boy．．．Do ya know peekaboo7)?Hey，look he knows peekaboo．”Erik continued to laugh and answer，“Hi，there．”Every call was echoed．Nobody thought it was cute．The guy was a drunk and a disturbance．I was embarrassed．My husband，Dennis，was humiliated．Even our six－year－old said，“Why is that old man talking so loud？”
Dennis went to pay the check，imploring me to get Erik and meet him in the parking lot．“Lord，just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik．”I bolted for the door．It soon was obvious that both the Lord and Erik had other plans．As I drew closer to the man，I turned my back，walking to sidestep him－－and any air he might be breathing．As I did so，Erik，with his eyes riveted on his new friend，leaned far over my arm，reaching with both his hands in a baby's “pick me up” position．In a split second of balancing my baby and turning to counter his weight，I came eye to eye with the old man．Erik was lunging for him，arms spread wide．The bum's eyes both asked and implored，“Would you let me hold your baby？”There was no need for me to answer because Erik propelled himself from my arms into the man's．Suddenly a very old man and a very young baby consummated their love relationship．Erik laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder．The man's eyes closed，and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes．His aged hands full of grime，and pain，and hard labor－－gently，so gently，cradled8) my baby's bottom and stroked his back．
I stood awestruck9)．The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms for a moment，and then his eyes opened and set squarely on mine．He said in a firm commanding voice，“You take care of this baby．”Somehow I managed，“I will，”from a throat that contained a stone．He pried Erik from his chest－－unwillingly，longingly－－as though he were in pain．I held my arms open to receive my baby and again the gentleman addressed me．“God bless you，ma'am．You've given me my Christmas gift．”I said nothing more than a muttered10) thanks．With Erik back in my arms，I ran for the car．Dennis wondered why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly and why I was saying，“My God，my God，forgive me．”
by Nancy Dalburg
