Every day at exactly 4:40 p.m,a middle aged man would always sit outside my university,New york university (NYU) with a red envelope on his laps.
Nobody knew his name and his job nor why he always sat on that bench,we all knew him as "the bench man".
He would always be there when the semester was over and when a new on began and during school strike.he never missed a routine.
Most people believed he was a weirdo who has no destination or he was waiting for someone, probably his child or wife.
In my second year ,where my department had their own private building adjacent where the man usually sat,we were opportuned to see him everyday face to face,my coursemates mocked him endlessly .
Someone said"imagine being that jobless and bench sitting here every single day"
"Aren't you too old for this, you're literally the same age as my father " another one laughed.
Something about him kept me thinking,the image about him just couldn't leave my mind ,I don't know how I could be so worried about a random stranger.
One evening,after I had the worst day in school,I lost my ATM card and my exam paper was confiscated because I was accused of exam malpractice.I sat next to him while waiting for my boyfriend to come pick me up .
He looked at me"you look so dejected , anything wrong?,a young girl like you shouldn't be frowning"
"Nyu is dealing with me,it's after my mental health" I replied.To think this was my dream school.
He smiled"I went through the same thing about 27 years ago,it gets easier ".
After a few minutes of silence,it became windy and wind blew the envelope to the ground,he hurriedly picked it up before I could even touch it.he held it in between his armpit and asked "do you believe all promises should be kept?".
I was in the mood to gist and answered honestly,I flashed back to growing up with a father who always gave false positive hopes and was always promising and failng.Most of the unfifilled promises didn't make me angry ,it thought me discipline.
"No".I say.
"You're right"He agreed, as if he already understood well.
I stood up to go pee and by the time I came back,he had gone up the street.
I screamed from the distance."wait, you..you forgot your envelope ".
"You can have it, open it when I'm gone"
I opened the envelope,it was a picture of two young men ,an old picture.one of the men was clearly the old man,at the back of the photo,the sentence "if I don't make it, promise me you'd find my daughter" was written .
The following week,the old man explained everything to me,him and his best friend served during the military war, his friend didn't make it.
Adjacent the spot he always sat was a refugee camp people were kept safe after the war,he hoped one day his friends little daughter,Anaya would appear.but for the past 32 years,it never happened.
I and the old man became extremely close ,I was helping him while he was sick,I found many written messages dedicated to anaya,the pain he had felt for not keeping the promise was immense.
I tried to explain to him that promises shouldn't always be kept,life happens, people have issues to deal with and their life to live.i felt bad for the poor man .
As a very famous writer on Facebook,I posted his story online,two days later i received a message from a user named "Anaya Weber".
" I think that soldier was my father".
The following day ,I contacted the old man and brought him back to the bench.i arranged a meeting between the two.
After thirty two years ,he had finally kept his promise , holding the photograph walked towards him with tears in her eyes,the old man burst into tears as well ,they shared a warm hug,one you wouldn't understand.