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Newly homeless part 4
(This was written in January, I just hadn't gotten around to posting it until now. My apologies.)
As I look towards the new year, I feel hopeful, because without hope, we have nothing. My mom always said nothing's as bad as it seems. Well, she may have been right, but it doesn't feel that way right now.
Meandered around town today trying to keep warm in the 20-degree weather. Sure am glad I have those gloves I got at the Christmas dinner. Need 'em in this cold and icy stuff.
Worked at the soup kitchen for a while today, stocking shelves and doing dishes. They give me some fruit to take with me, and I stuff it in my backpack. Damn nice people. I mention that my background is in food, and they want to talk to me about working and getting paid for it. I'm all ears, but maybe tomorrow.
I have $31 in my pocket plus some loose change, but nobody has to know. Good thing I don't smoke, or it would all be gone. Seven dollars for a pack of Marlboros?? Good Lord, it's enough to bankrupt you in a hurry.
Got to the shelter early and talk to the staff. They know me by name now and we talk about everything. Donald is in the bathroom. I can hear him. That cough isn't getting any better.
Bertha and Louise barrel in, both with remnants of some alcoholic beverages lingering on them. They come over, and I just wave, letting them know that I'm not feeling the hugging thing today. I don't like it when they drink. I understand why they do, but I don't approve of it. I wasn't a big drinker when I had a roof over my head, and I'm not spending what little I have now on alcohol. It's a waste to me.
I write in my journal about my day, and sit there listening to the sounds of the shelter. It's depressing, but as a friend from days gone by would say, "It is what it is,..."
Donald is back, and he and I talk for a bit. I tell him to see a doctor, and finally agrees to do so. Or maybe he's just placating me so I'll shut up about it. He says he really needs a cigarette, but he ran out a couple of days ago. He knows I don't smoke and won't give him the money to get some. Says he'd feel better if he had some menthol in his lungs. Whatever,...
Sleep comes early to most of the folks here, and I likewise turn in. Another night in the shelter. Another night of pain, sadness, and disilluitonment. I pray to God that it gets better,...