First they came for the homeless
Some mornings I wake to good news. From Here/There. Another person moves on.
P. showed up at camp one night, her car filled with her belongings so crammed there was hardly enough space left for her to drive, much less sleep. She was tired and upset, having been ousted from a relative’s house, after another ugly scene. Again .
She was allowed a small tent refuge. She stayed on. She’d been attempting to get and stay clean and sober, after a time of less diligence and indulgances, and wanted to piece her life back together.
It wasn’t too long before more hardship came along, when her car ‘disappeared’ one night, with most of her belongings still inside. By the time she got notice that it wasn’t stolen, but had been towed, and she was able to get to it, her belongings were gone. Then the car was, too.
She continued working, at least part time, at security and event staffing gigs, often returning on her bicycle rather forlornly to her tent at night. But even some brief, friendly encounters from others there and supportive, encouraging words helped. So she stayed the course.
Day by day, she did her shifts, replaced her ID, got new glasses, etc.
Today, a couple of months later, she left camp, with departing hugs to those who had become closer with her. She’s off to visit another relative in another state. When she returns, she’s looking forward to a room she’ll be renting as she continues to progress.
–Mike Zint
