Man of Toys

There are guardian angels. I feel that in my bones, and don’t doubt it one bit. There are also humans on earth that are angels in disguise. How do I know this to be true? I met one, several times. And to this day, I never knew his name.

Back in 1994, my family and I moved south- exactly 1000 miles away from my home in Bath, Maine. I had a two year old girl, and boys 3 and almost 6. I was 27 years old, and with the exception of college in Massachusetts and a few visits to NC, SC and FL, I had never lived away from my Mom very long. It was warm that that Christmas and New Years, which was a novelty. Then, it rained the entire month of February (or so it seemed) and I missed my Mom so much my heart broke each time I heard her voice.

One day, I bundled the kids into raincoats and L.L. Bean rubber boots and drove off to the post office to buy more stamps and mail some photos to Maine. My mind was concerned on unbuckling car seats and chasing little boys, so I never saw him approach until I heard, “Well, good morning, children!”

There before us stood a smiling older gentleman in a black coat and hat, smiling for all the world like a man standing in the sunshine rather than gray rain. His eyes twinkled, and looked at each child lovingly.

“I have something for you, if your mother allows…” and off he went towards his car.

I looked at my eldest son, as his green eyes sparkled in anticipation- ”Who’s that, Mum?”

I shrugged my shoulders, not sure what to make of this little man.

Over he walked with three stuffed animals under his coat, and handed a pink bear to my little girl on my hip, a blue bear to my three year old, and a green monkey to my kindergarten son.

They smiled and hugged their stuffed animals close, and all said an excited “Thank you!”

Needless to say, they talked about it the whole way home. My heavy heart, missing my home and my family was lifted, and I felt the warmth of a good deed.

This occurred several other times, once in the parking lot of Winn Dixie, once while eating at the buffet restaurant, and once more at the post office. My children never asked his name, and neither did I. I asked about him once or twice, and if I was told his name, I did not commit it to memory… I preferred to imagine him as an angel, a leprechaun, a magical man that seemed to appear out of thin air with a gift just when my spirit was lowest.

Twelve years later, I still get a sensation of a heart overflowing and tears in my eyes when I think of that man, and how his magical stuffed animals made my children feel so special, and made their mother believe in earth angels. I want to thank him somehow, honor his memory, and do good deeds in his name. Better than any greeting to a transplanted Yankee, that man made me feel welcome, and gave me the courage to bloom where I was planted.

I thought of him years later when I saw the film, “Pay it Forward”. Wouldn’t it be great to be remembered by people in such a wonderful way, for such kind deeds?

Bless you, Man of Toys, wherever you may be…. you’ll always live in my heart, among my fondest memories of living in the heart of the South.