It is late, almost midnight. The station’s high glass ceiling would reveal a glorious view of beautiful stars to anyone who cared to look up. But the eyes of the commuters are too weary with fatigue to bother with stars.
A train lurches forward and a small crowd of people steps out onto the platform. A middle aged woman stumbles out and collapses on a nearby bench. Underneath her sensible wool coat and scarf, the woman wears business attire, and the expression of one who has once worked far too hard for far too little pay. The lines in her face tell the story of sleepless nights and lost hopes and dreams.
As the last few people exit the station, the echoes of their footsteps still lingering, another train pulls up. The woman takes a glimpse at her watch, and then up at the schedule. There are no trains scheduled after the one she just disembarked. Curious, the woman steps up to the train and peeks inside the window. Just then the train doors open. There is nobody on board. The woman looks down at the floor in front of her, and notices a water stained envelope. She bends down and picks it up. Just as she rises, the doors close gently and the train pulls forward and away. The woman stares in awe as the train chugs out of sight.
The woman turns her attention to the envelope. It feels heavy. She carefully turns it over. There is neither an address nor a return address. In fact, there is no writing at all that could give her a clue to whom this envelope belongs. The woman glances around. Then, she tentatively opens the envelope, careful not to tear the old, delicate paper. She reaches inside and pulls out a stack of bills. She counts them carefully. Hundreds and then thousands upon thousands of dollars. She stares in wonder and amazement. The things she could do with a treasure like this! Why, she could buy new furniture, a new car without transmission issues. Even better, she could buy a new apartment in uptown with the rich folks.
With a sudden pep in her step, the woman tucks the money back into its envelope and hides it beneath her coat. She starts to walk out of the station, her heels clicking excitedly across the tile. She stepped out into the open air, the sounds of the city surrounding her. She has not a care in the world as she heads home, the possibilities of her glorious find racing through her head.
She is almost too overcome with excitement to notice a young mother—probably no older than seventeen—rocking her baby on the street corner. But the woman does notice. She stops, observing the girl. The girl’s clothes are stained and tattered. She has a bruise over one tired, helpless eye. The woman feels a pang of familiarity in her heart. She hesitates, then pulls out the envelope and hands it to the girl. The girl looks up at her in confusion.
“Please” says the woman. “Take it.”
The girl gently reaches out and takes the envelope. Before she can say anything, the woman takes off down the street, disappearing under the glare of the bright street lights.
To her surprise, she does not feel poorer or sadder, but lighter and freer. What use does she truly have for that money anyway? Her life is comfortable. Not perfect, but comfortable. Besides, she is just happy with the knowledge that the money that could’ve gone to frivolous things like sofas or cars, is now with those who truly need it.
After all, that is the greatest treasure anyone could ask for.