Homeless and Helpless...
Turning a corner the street seemed to decrease with life. With a bar at each end of the street the scent of the city seeped through the vents of the car, which provided much needed air flow on a sweltering day. Tall buildings blocked the light dimming an already dreary part of town. The curbs were littered with trash as I gazed on people in a way of life unfamiliar to me. With curiosity of a small child I asked my father at the steering wheel of our car, “Who are these people? “ With a quick glance to his right, checking that the door was locked next to my shoulder, he replied, “bums.” My father as usual had little or no contributing words to further our conversation.
Stopping at a traffic light, observing the faces outside of “my world” they wore no emotion but despair. I sat there in the silence which soon was broken by my father’s comment, “they have no jobs, so they walk the street.” As if reading my mind, he now more generous with words voiced his opinion. “They live in the streets, begging for food, alcohol and drugs.” From his statement it was obvious he paid them no respect.
I asked no more questions but continued making mental notes. The clothes on their back were as a uniform of the street, dark, worn and in much need of laundering and repair. Where do these people go at night to find rest, escaping the constant noise and busyness of the city? Who takes care of them when their sick? Where do they bathe? How could it have been they live only miles from my home? This was a part of the “real world” I never knew existed.
Leaving the restaurant with a co-worker, turning onto the street there she walked in a world of her own. The woman was homeless, with all her possessions hanging in a bag from her shoulder. My every thought went back to the drive in the city with my father. Only time slipped by, I was in a small town, there were no tall buildings to hide the sunny day or trash with a multitude of bums littering the curb. The street she walked did not appear to be her residence. The homeless were different individuals from that day, trapped in the same circumstances of life
As an adult with my own perspective, has led me to the realization of a society that for some have given up enslaved in addiction, abandonment, financial misfortune, abuse or a combinaton. I have no disrespect just pity, with the hope and prayer for intervention in their lives.
The image of this woman is etched in my mind, though now my questions; how do these homeless arrive at this place in their life? How close to the life they lead do some of us come near and escape?
- Second Chance for Diesel & Patricia
A letter from Patricia.. 9-11-2009 To: everyone at the Animal Shelter I want to say thank you for keeping