ONE EARLY EVENING several years ago, when I was still living with my family in Oakland, I walked towards the storefront district along Forbes Avenue. I don't recall what for. I may have been headed to the 24-hour drug store, or the local music store where my sister worked, or any other number of places. I don't remember exactly which street I was on either, although it was one along the Fifth and Forbes corridor near the hospitals. I also don't remember a small item falling unnoticed from my bag.What I do remember in very exacting detail is hearing a voice, a child's voice, calling out to me above the din of Oakland's street and sidewalk traffic. I was so focused on getting to wherever I was going that I hadn't heard this at first. I turned to make sure it was me being hailed, and there was a little boy, no more than four or five years old, running down the hill after me. (For those who live outside of Pittsburgh, everything here is on a hill.) In his outstretched hand was my umbrella (for the sake of expedience, we're going to say the item was an umbrella), and he continued to call to me, with a slight Chinese accent, "Sir! Sir!"
Just up the street from him was a lady, presumably his mother, who had presumably just told him to run after me and deliver it back. I knelt down and he handed it to me. I thanked him and smiled, then watched him turn and run back up to her. I waved my thanks and she smiled back. Then the two of them continued on their way and I went mine, amused and touched that the woman would trust her child to be safe enough to allow them both to grant me that small act of kindness.
