This morning as I finished running and came back into our neighborhood, I saw one of the homeless men digging in a large barrel trash can.
He waved. I waved. I recognized him as the mute man we used to see walking in the morning.
He went back to picking through garbage for a split second, then looked up at my sweat-drenched self again. His face lit up and he reached into the canvas shopping bag on his shoulder and pulled out a glass bottle half-filled with water and motioned for me to drink if I wanted to.
I raised my hands and clasped them in front of my face, sending back a wordless Senegalese greeting and thanks.
We all have something to give, something to share.