I got off the train.
I didn’t have anywhere to go, but it was the end of the line.
I was hoping to find a corner of the train station to curl up in, but the cops were already there, sweeping out the homeless like we were trash.
So I kept moving, kept my head down until I couldn’t see the blinking lights anymore.
As I walked, I looked around. It was a nice neighborhood. Big houses. Wide lawns. Lots of light, even at this late hour.
Nice neighborhoods provided opportunities. People had more money to be generous.
But nice neighborhoods could also be dangerous. People don’t always want to be generous, and they have more to lose. They tend to see people like me as a threat. I might be able to stay here a little while, but not too long.
Since I had nowhere I needed to be, I followed the train tracks until I was exhausted and my feet objected loudly to every step.
I came to a street that passed under the train tracks. A man sat on the sidewalk under the bridge, propped up against the wall. He looked up as I came around the corner.
“Hey, brother,” he said.
I nodded, but was too tired to speak.
“Don’t you look tired? Why don’t you come and sit next to Old Jim?” He patted the sidewalk next to him and I sat, closing my eyes in relief, but also because I was too tired to keep them open any longer.
I think he said something as I sat, but I was too tired to hear. I was asleep before my butt hit the ground.
I awoke with a start, feeling like someone was watching me. I don’t know how much time had passed, but as I looked around, I realized why I felt like someone had been watching me.
Right in front of me stood a white boy with red hair. He couldn’t have been more than eight or nine, but his clothes were impeccably clean, and he stood perfectly straight as he stared at me.
I blinked and shook my head, wondering if the kid was real, but every time I looked back, he was still there.
“Hey, kid,” I said.
“Why are you sitting on the ground?” he said.
I shrugged. “Don’t have anywhere else to sit.”
“It’s dirty.”
“That’s true.”
“You don’t care that you’re sitting on the ground where it’s dirty?”
I considered this a moment. The fact is I used to care. But when you’re homeless, you get used to a lot of things you never thought you’d get used to.
I’d still prefer a chair. Or better yet a big, soft couch. Or best of all, a warm bed.
But the ground was what I had. And when you’re homeless, you’re tired all the time, so you sleep when and where you can.
I looked at the boy and said, “No, I don’t.”
He turned and walked away. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t even shrug. Just turned and left.
I looked around, wondering how I was going to get something to eat. I remembered talking to someone before falling asleep, but I couldn’t find any trace of him.
I had just picked myself up and was in the process of stretching my sore limbs when the boy reappeared. This time he was holding a blanket, which he held out to me.
I was so stunned, it took me a moment to realize he wanted me to take it. “For me?” I asked before taking the blanket.
He nodded, still holding the blanket out to me. As I took it, he said, “Put it on the ground and then sit on it. It won’t protect you from all the germs, but it’s better than sitting on the ground.”
The gesture was so thoughtful and so unexpected I didn’t know what to do. It took me a moment to recover my manners enough just to say, “Thank you.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, he nodded, then turned and walked away without another word, just as before.
To be continued…