We quickly went back and found he was still there waiting for us. No one stopped for him yet. With trembling hands， I grabbed the shopping bags and moved out of the car， followed my four children， each of them with a gift. When we were walking towards him， I felt a flash of fear thrilling through my mind， hoping that he was not a serial killer， or any other dangerous man. I looked into his eyes and saw he was trying to hold back his tears like a small boy.
I told him that I hoped these things were not too heavy for him， and showed him all the things we bought. When I took out the plate for water， he snatched it from my hand， as if it was made of gold. He told me before that he had no way to give his dog water. He put it down carefully， poured the bottle of water into it， stood up and looked straight into my eyes. His eyes were so blue， so nervous； when he said， "Madam， I don't know what to say，" my eyes brimmed over with tears. Then， he held his head wrapped with a large handkerchief in both hands and broke into tears.
Tearfully， I said with a smile， "You don't have to say anything."
When we boarded our van and drove on， he knelt on the grass， held his dog with his arms and kissed its nose with a smile. I waved my hand cheerfully， and then allowed my tears to course down.
At this moment， my daughter Brandy turned to me and said in the sweetest voice of a little girl， "I feel really great now."
On the surface it seems that we helped him， but in fact he gave me a gift I would never forget--it had impacted on my children profoundly.
In the following years， my children had all grown up and become useful people to the society. At a charity speech， my son Brundy told this story to the audience. He concluded in the end， "It influenced me so greatly that it made me know that regardless of a person's appearance， their mind should get goodwill， compassion and acceptance. It was the stranger who opened my mind."