This is a new series of post I will do on friday that is called, What I See. During the week I will take photos of various events around me. I will provide a story behind the photo. This is essentially giving my readers a glimpse into my writing, the way I think, and also about my life. It wouldn’t be fair to only talk about writing, I have to be willing to show yall my pieces, too. Let me know what you think.
Mr. Homeless guy was packing up his belongings to begin his day. He had on some old adidas’ sneakers that barely held his feet in place, due to worn out shoe strings. He wore the same outfit every single day, however, whenever I pass him he didn’t smell of an odor. He is a man around the age of his mid 40’s to early 50’s, he is probably younger, but the weathered look of living on the streets for however long, has aged him.
Many people walk pass him, especially during the work-week, I also am a victim of passing him without any care.
But, there was one time, one time I made an attempt to encounter this man. The night before I saw my girlfriend. We were making the remainder amount of patties for our burger brawl. I remember the night so vividly, because I knew I had to get to her place because I wasn’t going to see her for a couple of days. But, it was raining, and coming down like nobody’s business. So, we made the patties, said our goodbyes, and I was ready to get rid of the food that was an excess and a waste to me. I got off the bus in the morning, took the same route, and I saw Mr. Homeless guy packing his possessions. Everything happened so fast, it was like I was preparing for a drive-by shooting: The bag of patties was the gun, and my voice with words was the bullet that would penetrate whatever it made contact with, in this case, it was Mr. Homeless guy.
I told the Homeless guy that I had extra food and thought he would enjoy it. Mr. Homeless guy looked at me without a care in the word, and seemed like he didn’t appreciate handouts from a kid who thought he was doing something worthy of praise. Because he had some extra food lying around in his refrigerator that is in his home that is covered from the elements of dust, debris, sunlight, wind, and whatever the fuck the sky decides to bare on the earth. Mr. Homeless guy didn’t even say thank you. I was waiting for a thank you. The confortation was awkard, so I closed my computer bag, and walked away.
I don’t know how long those patties lasted him. Probably a day, hopefully more than a week, who knows. He could have felt insulted and threw them out. But, I don’t think so, he had nothing else to eat.
Damn, look at the way I’m talking, there I go again with my feeling-sorry-for-a-least-fortunate disenchantment rant. But, dammit, I gave him something he needed. He should be jubilant with the food I wasn’t going to eat, the food I was going to throw away, regardless if he was their on the corner or not..
Who knows how long Mr. Homeless guy will be out there. I know he will probably be there longer than I am working at my current employer. I wonder where he will get his next bite to eat. I wondering if it is really worth wondering about.
I just see him in the morning, I think about how the rest of his day turns out. I wonder if he has friends he sees everyday, who talk to him like a human being, or at least opens up to because they have taken the time to know his story. I wonder if he still communicates with his family. I wonder how he got out there. I wonder if he has given up on life. I wonder if he is ready to leave this earth. I wonder if he ever takes a bath. I wonder if he has somebody special to have lovin’, only, in this case, doing it in the streets somewhere.
I can only hope and wonder. I won’t have the balls to ever ask this man all of the things I wonder about. Not him. He is too too cold for me to get close to, he won’t let me.
I still want to know their story.