She's been there for a few months now. I recognize her shopping cart from halfway down the block. It has a red and white afghan that hangs off the side. Sometimes she's asleep when I go past. Sometimes, she sees me and looks away. I tried smiling at her once but she shook her head. A man was with her once. He had lots of bags with him but no blankets. His feet were wet from standing in the rain. He was wearing slippers.
Sometimes she's across the street, curled up on the bus stop bench. She covers her head with the afghan when she tries to sleep.
I wonder how she got there, where she came from. I wonder how I can help her, if she'd let me if I tried. I wonder who the man was and if he'll be back someday. I wonder where she goes at night-she just always seems to be there.
I walked home tonight with a grocery bag and my coat. It was pouring down rain and I thought how I couldn't wait to get home and out of my wet clothes. I was replaying the day in my mind, thinking about things I could have done better at work. I wasn't looking forward to coming home and doing chores-laundry, dishes...
I got closer to the bus stop where she'd been this morning and saw that her cart was tucked under cover. I didn't see her until I got closer and then all I saw was her feet sticking out from under a blanket. I glanced at her from under my rain soaked hood and saw her foot move. I couldn't see her face because it was covered with clothes, blankets, and other pieces of her life.
I turned the corner and swallowed hard. Tears pricked my eyes as I rounded the corner to home. Without a word, I'd been reminded how very lucky I am.
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