An old man, gnarled by the wisdom of his plentiful years, once walked along a shore, upon which countless starfish lay, stranded, with nary a hope of returning to the place they once called home. With each step, the old man stooped, and gently cradled one of the many in his weathered palm. He paused for just a moment, perhaps to consider the weight of that instant, and cast the starfish once more into the sea.
From a distance, a young boy, spared by his youth the darker ways of the world, watched on curiously. It was not long that his earnestness could be abated, and, with a quick glance, he strode toward the old man.
As he approached, he asked the old man, “Why is it that you cast these forsaken creatures into the sea? They are so many, and you - only one. Surely, you may never see the day that all of the starfish have been saved. Surely, you cannot make a difference.”
The old man glanced at the young boy, and a weary smile crept upon his face. “Yes, this is true. Their number is beyond measure, and here I measure but one.” He looked once more at the starfish draped across his palm, and, just as he had before, cast it into the sea.
With a shallow breath, he turned to the boy and said, “But, my son, you overlook the truth.” Looking wistfully towards the sea, the breeze tugging at the corners of his haggardly beard, he whispered…
‘It made a difference to that one.”
