The Old Man

“Hurry up. Hurry up. Hurry up.”

I repeated those words to myself numerous times as I raced down the street. The towering skyscrapers of New York loomed over me, only allowing thin streams of yellow sunlight to reach the crowded streets. I was late to my job as a personal assistant for the manager of a large computer company. If I was tardy again this week, I would be fired.

My legs burned as I sprinted around a corner. Just a few more blocks. I could feel my laptop thumping against my side in its protective bag. When I wasn’t fetching coffee or scheduling appointments, I was hunched over a table, writing away. It helped me escape into my own little world.

I turned another corner and ran straight into a pedestrian. My head crashed against theirs and we both went sprawling. The bag at my side burst open, spilling out pens and loose papers. I looked up and saw an old man cradling his forehead. He was at least seventy, with old black glasses, greying hair and icy blue eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The man leaned forward to help pick up my stuff. “Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“No, It’s my fault.” I stuffed the papers into my bag, not bothering to be careful. There was no time to chat with this guy. “I was in too much of a rush.”

“Oh? Where ya’ heading?” He asked, his eyes twinkling. I sighed. The only way I was going to get rid of this guy without coming across as rude was to answer him.

“I’m late for my job as an gofer. If I’m late, I’ll lose my job.”

The old man blinked. “Hm. You’re in trouble with the boss?” I shrugged. “Ah.” The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, pitch black notebook. “Here. I want you to have this. Everyday, write three things your thankful for, followed by one future goals. It’s what got me this old.” He chuckled at his own joke.

I didn’t have time to try an deny the gift. So I quickly took it from him, thanked the wrinkled man and pushed past him. People and shops whizzed past me as I ran faster and faster. Eventually, I came to a crosswalk where a small crowd was waiting for the light to turn green. While I caught my breath, I looked at the small book the man had given me. It was a simple, pocket-sized journal with about a hundred pages and a leather cover. I flipped it over. No price tag or logo. Where did the man get this? I turned the notebook back to the front and saw something green sticking out of it.

Confused, I flipped to the page where the protruding object was. It was a lottery ticket. I picked it up and studied it carefully. It seemed legitimate enough. Looking around, I laid the ticket flat against the cover of the book and scraped away the first of the three silver tiles with my nail. Cherry.

I scratched the second one. Cherry again.

Holding my breath, I slowly scraped away at the third tile. The red fruit with a single green stem gleamed back at me. Could it be? I checked the rules on the back of the ticket. Yes! I had won $20 000! I couldn’t believe it!

I looked around for the man. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen, of course. I had left him behind. A million questions raced across my mind. Did he know about the winning ticket? Why had he given it to me in the first place? I didn’t know him, did I?

In my haze, I hadn’t even noticed that the light had turned green. Someone pushed me from behind and I automatically started to walk across the street, nearly dropping the book. This was actually happening. My feet subconsciously carried me to the other side of the block, where I stopped and continued to stare at the ticket. Other pedestrian shoved past me, not bothering to apologize.

My time was running out. I glanced up, seeing the tall office building I worked at. If I hurried, I could make it on time. With one last glance at the ticket, I eased it into the black notebook and carefully closed it, slipping it into my bag. I hurriedly gathered my thought, plastered on my regular smile and started to make my way to the office.

That night I cashed out the winning ticket and payed off my overdue taxes, bought a plane ticket to Hawaii, and invited some friend to dinner tomorrow. Once I had some time to myself, I picked up the small book and flipped to the first page, writing down three things I was thankful for. Thinking about my goal, I quickly scrawled it down in curly writing and set the book down, heading off to bed.

Every day, I wrote down the same goal. It got me promoted to the manager of the computer command I worked at and earned me a new house with more luxurious items.

The note that I jotted down every day?

“Take advantage of miracles. They rarely come.”