It’s a really interesting dance, this dance you and I do. I find myself thinking about you, especially now that the leaves have changed from green to golden and have blown gently from their branches. The nights are much, much colder than they were just weeks ago and I wonder as I walk the dogs in the very early morning hours, before the sun even begins to peak over the distant mountains, where you are, if you’ve survived another night, where you might have slept and if you were warm enough?
You’re always there. Each time I go to the over-priced grocery store for organic produce that has come from far too many miles away, produce I justify as necessary for my own health even if the miles it has traveled means it isn’t nearly as healthy for the planet nor me as it really should be, you’re waiting for me. Well, probably not for me, exactly. However, in the last eighteen months I can’t really remember a trip to that store when I didn’t encounter you, didn’t have you ask me for money.
I always give it to you. Without hesitation. I find myself considering carefully, before I even leave my house, if I can go to the store with an empty wallet, decide that no, I can not disappoint you, and go out of my way if my wallet is void of dollar bills to replenish it before I encounter you so I can pass them along to your anxious shaking waiting hands.
It seems crazy, insane almost, that I feel this obligation to you. I’ve asked your story over and over and it is enough to know that it is rarely the same story twice. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re using the money that I give to you for drugs and alcohol, though I encourage you often to come with me to share some food inside and sometimes you do. Those moments are rare, but I know they fill us both with joy. Your eyes have trouble hiding your real emotions. Mine do, too.
George, my biggest fear is that one day I will be wearing your shoes and I will not manage nearly as well as you seem to do. I know that giving you my dollars, some food, the warm blankets doesn’t solve your problems or make anything any easier for you. My generosity also will never prevent me from perhaps one day actually being the same person who is asking for another’s kindness and shelter from the storm.
My promise, though, to you is that as long as you’re there, George, I won’t ignore you. I will give you all that I can. It’s the best that I can do for you. It’s the best I can do for me.
