The old man shifted around slowly in his spot there at the end of the Brooklyn Bridge, trying to find a comfortable position... trying to find a spot where he could lay his head to rest. He'd come to know this place over the past few years. He'd sit there at night beneath his makeshift shelter -- a large cardboard refrigerator box he'd found outside of an apartment building a few blocks away -- and watch as the cars passed quickly by. They were always in a rush to get somewhere. There was never anywhere for him to be going.

It was particularly frigid this evening, and he shivered violently as he pulled the one blanket he owned up around his freezing body. He'd piled newspapers beneath him on the frozen ground as a means to protect himself from the icy, frostbitten dirt, but nothing could keep out this kind of cold.

He watched as a car slowly approached, it's headlights glowing a brilliant yellow against the dark sky. It darted by and headed off across the bridge in the direction of another place, the tires sending up a slushy spray of dirty snow as they sped along the road.

He could see the snow falling in the street lights, falling steadily now, and he knew it was going to be another long night. He was used to it by now though. Used to sitting in the cold, watching the snow fall around him and watching as cars passed by through the darkness and the loneliness that had become his life. The slow and steady traffic of the city that never stopped for anyone at all. It had to be past midnight now, the traffic had slowed considerably over the past several hours and he new that it would be sparse on a night like this.

He eyed another approaching car, prepared for it to pass over the bridge and vanish into the night. Unexpectedly though, this one stopped. It shuddered to a halt on the other side of the road, across from where he sat huddled beneath his box. It was a taxi, he could tell by the lights on top... the rest of the car was covered in a blanket of snow. The door opened slowly and a young man stepped out, leaning back briefly to hand the driver a wad of cash before closing the door behind him.

He watched as the taxi pulled away and the young passenger turned towards the Brooklyn Bridge. The man looked young... too young to be out here on the bridge in the middle of a night like this. Too innocent to be out here for the reasons the old man suspected.

He'd seen it before in his years by this bridge. Quite a few times actually. Some men, some women, some old and some young... all stressed out and depressed over something in their lives and looking for a way to end their frustrations. Luckily it had ended the same way each time. He'd watched them stomp out onto the bridge, determination ripe on their faces, anger showing through in the way they trampled out across the road and up onto the sidewalk dividing the street from the railing that over looked the river. He'd watch them peer over and take in the rushing water beneath them and one by one they would seem to calm down. They would stand there for a few minutes... maybe longer. Some would sit down on the ground and cry. Others would throw things over the edge. But they would all eventually come to the same conclusion, turning around at some point and walking right back in the direction from wince they came.

He'd never known their stories... he didn't need to know. Everyone had a story, just like him. He only watched on as these individuals rushed across the bridge, thoughts of doing something rash stuck in their minds. He knew what they didn't though. That their thoughts were spur of the moment... never contemplated. He knew... always knew that they didn't really mean it.

He remembered reading Winnie the Pooh to his son when he was a younger man, the same quote always striking him, but he never understood why.

He believed that now, having lived by this bridge above this river for 3 years. He'd watched so many people step out onto that bridge and stare down into the water as if they'd find the answer to some unknown question below in the tide. He'd done it himself once or twice... maybe more, when he was lost and desperate. He hadn't found the answers he'd been looking for, at least not all at once, but he'd certainly come to peace with his life. Come to peace with the man he'd become and if the river could do that for him then he believed it could do that for anyone.

He watched as the young man shuffled his way out onto the bridge, edging his way silently, slowly towards the railing. There was something different about this one. Something he hadn't seen in those other individuals. There was a lack of determination... a lack of anger and frustration. No stomping across the road, no begging God for answers, no throwing his hands up in the air as he walked along. This man seemed lost and desperate. He seemed honestly ready to end it all.

He walked along, his shoulders slumped, his eyes staring down at the ground below him. He didn't glance up when the old man stood and stepped out of his shelter. He didn't even flinch when he coughed to let him know of his presence. He just slowly ambled his way to the side of the road and up onto the sidewalk, standing at the rail of the bridge, leaning over and looking into the unknown.

The old man had never before interfered with the silent affairs of the people on the bridge. He'd never before felt the need. Now was a different story. He approached Aj and coughed again, watching as the young man slowly turned his head to look towards him. Aj didn't smile, didn't nod, didn't move or blink. He simply reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening it slowly he pulled out a wad of cash and thrust it towards him with a shrug.

The old man sighed, his face fell. So this was what the young man thought of him. He was just a homeless begger on a bridge come to rob him of his last bit of money before he died.

But that wasn't him...

That wasn't him at all.

He refused the money shoving Aj's hand away and looking him in the eye. He frowned, glancing silently at the young man's appearance. He wore ratty old jeans and a black denim jacket with a t-shirt underneath. Converse sneakers and a skull cap on his head. Attire far too cold for a night like this. He looked down at his own appearance... sweatpants with holes in the knees, a flannel shirt and a warm winter coat he'd been lucky enough to find at the Goodwill. Upon first glance they weren't so different, but he knew better. That wad of cash the young man pulled from his pocket. He knew that they were very different.

He felt ashamed. Ashamed that someone in the young man's position would offer his money to a homeless man on the street. Ashamed he'd ever been put in a position like this.

"You know," he said with a sigh, feeling still ashamed and slightly helpless as he leaned over the rail next to Aj and watched as the water drifted aimlessly by below... "I haven't always been this way."