Last Christmas was a very difficult time for me. My family were all back home in Florida, leaving me  44  in a rather cold California. I was working at the Southwest Airlines ticket counter. It was about 9:00 P.M. on Christmas Eve, and there were a few of us  45  and very few customers waiting to be  46  . When the next person came to the counter, I  47  to see a very old man, whose leg was wrapped in a bandage(±Á´ø) ,standing with a stick. He walked very  48  over and in a low  49  told me that he had to go to New Orleans. I tried to explain to him there were no more  50  that night and that he would have to wait till the  51  .

Later, I  52  this old man was Mr. MacDonald and that his relative  53  him off at the sidewalk on C hristmas Ev e and told him to go to New Orleans, where he had his family. He was given some  54  and told just to go inside and buy a ticket. When  55  if he could come back tomorrow, he said that he had no place to  56  here and he would wait at the airport until tomorrow. I felt a little ashamed. The poor old man now  57  me of what being alon e really meant.