“Doing the Work” by Jason McKinley Williams

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Doing the Work

The file cabinet seemed the right size
to slide nicely in my office closet.

“Want it? Five dollars.”
The yard sale’s organizer spoke to me over his wide shoulders,
thick fingers sweeping cobwebs from Kentucky Derby glasses

Before I could answer–
“Actually, let me show you a nicer one. Inside.”

We walked upstairs, photographs in the stairwell illustrating his words.
“I’m sixty-one now, retired. All I do is work on these trips to Haiti–”

In a weathered, wooden frame
his face (which I’d only seen in blurred profile)
captured in laughter
Two thin children, narrow shoulders draped in orange tee shirts,
cackling on his lap.

“…six or seven times a year. As often as our church can afford. Every cent of this sale goes to help build…”

A group photo.
Impossibly clichéd sunset backdrop.
He’s to the side, muscle-roped forearms dirty to the elbows.
Blood trickling from his knee down onto his ankle.
Bearded now, still beaming.

After I load up the cabinet,
I empty my wallet,
hand him fifteen dollars
anticipating gratitude.

Without looking, he stuffs the folded bills into a collection jar.
“Thanks so much. Hey, can you help me move this big mirror before you go?”

Ashamed to say, I felt disappointed.

But the man knows something I obviously haven’t learned.
Of all the things you can give away freely
Money is the cheapest.

-Jason McKinley Williams

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