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Mr. Miller had a tiny vegetable stand by the roadside. It sure didn’t look much, but I knew that his fruit and vegetables were really delicious. One day, he was weighing out some beautiful new potatoes for me, when I noticed a small boy who was looking longingly at a tray of fresh green peas. I couldn’t help over-hearing what Mr. Miller said.
"Hi, Barry! How are you today?"
"Just fine, thank you. I was just admiring them peas ...they sure look good."
"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"
"Fine. Sge's getting stronger all the time. Maybe she'll be able to go back to work soon"
"Great. Can I can help you with anything?"
"No, Sir. I'm just admiring them peas."
"Would you like to take some home?"
"No, Sir. "fraid I haven't got any money"
"Well, what do you have that you could trade with me for some peas?"
"All I've got is my prize marble here."
"Is that so? Let me see it."
"Here it is. She sure is a dandy."
"I can see that. Hmmmm, the only thing is, this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?"
"Not exactly .....but, almost."
"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home and the next time you come this way, let me look at that red marble."
"I sure will. Thanks, Mr. Miller."
Mrs. Miller, who was also working on the stall, came over to help me. With a smile, she said: "There are several boys like him in town whose parents are out of work and have no money. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, and tomatoes. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like the red one after all, and he sends them home with a bag of vegetables for a green marble or an orange one, because he just wants to give them the food and make sure they don't feel badly about it."
Mr. Miller was quite old, and several years
later he died. In the funeral parlour were three young men. One was
in an army uniform and the other two were smartly dressed and very professional
looking. Each of the young men hugged Mrs Miller, kissed her
on the cheek, spoke briefly with her, and placed a warm hand over the cold
pale hand in the funeral casket. Mrs. Miller asked if I remembered
those three young men. They were the boys who used to trade marbles
with Jim. Now, when Jim can no longer change his mind about color
or size... they have came to pay their debt. We've never had a lot
of money ourselves," she said, "but, right now, Jim would think himself
the richest man in the world." With loving gentleness she lifted
up the lifeless fingers of her husband. And resting underneath his
hand were three, exquisitely shiny, red marbles.
None of us will be remembered by our words.
Rather, people will remember our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the
breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away!
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