Words in a James Taylor song ring
true at unexpected times my life …”Lord knows when the cold wind blows, it will
turn your head around”. Today was one of
those days. I woke to a cold
morning. An uncommon cold snap has
crossed the city. Laying on my king
sized bed and under the warmth of my down comforter I procrastinate, just
briefly, to start my day. This is a
morning easily given into. It would be
so simple to turn on the TV and just call it a “me” day.
“Come on Barkley, it’s time to get
up”, I gently coax my perfectly groomed toy poodle. He too is enjoying the warmth of the
comforter. He yawned, looked up and
then realized it was time for his pills and breakfast. I carefully wrap each of his morning pills in
roast beef I buy from the deli. I pay a
premium for his roast beef but it is only a fraction of the $150 per month his
medication costs, coupled with his grooming appointments, pet insurance, teeth brushing and routine checks at
the veterinarian, he is a well cared for friend.
Today is Monday, the day I
volunteer in my granddaughter Mia’s classroom.
I rush to get ready, pound a cup of freshly brewed coffee and quickly
leave through the backdoor and into the garage.
As I start the car opening the automatic garage door, it is a day like
any other. I am looking forward to
working with a room full of five-year-old children. Their new fresh lives energize me. I quickly turn on the heat and begin my
journey.
I turn onto Carson Boulevard where
small businesses line the streets in between fast-food restaurants and gas stations. Just down the road is a large county
hospital. This is the facility where
people go when they cannot afford insurance; the facility where alcohol and
drug overdoses are common; where victims of violence are treated and the
facility where people are forced to enter when they won’t take their
medication.
Red lights are flashing from the
lone police car at the side of the road.
Two police officers and a handful
of bystanders are standing on the sidewalk looking down at the doorway to one
of the businesses. A white sheet is covering a newly discovered
statistic. Homeless people sleep in
doorways.
I wonder what is under the sheet .
. . a man, a woman? This was someone’s
child. It could have been someone’s
mother or father. What were her hopes and dreams? I wonder if a significant event
triggered this life or could it have been a chosen life or even a life destined
and driven by DNA. It appears to be a
torturous life to me – but was it to him?
Did he talk to himself in a mean and chastised way or had she reconciled
to her self-imposed normal? Was it self-imposed? Was he cold as he lay
there dying? Did anyone pass without
notice?
I reflect on my previous night of comfort around those that I love and am loved by. I am instantly saddened by the unanswered questions that create an image under the sheet that lay inside the cold doorway.
I watch the bystanders and the
police officers standing around…waiting for the truck that will haul away the
remnants of what is left. Are they
hardened? Do they care? Is there judgment? Is this just a morning nuisance? Or, are they too saddened and reflective? Maybe I should have started this post with
John Lennon’s “Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans”.
I arrive at Mia's classroom and watch the fresh new curious faces and can't help continuing the reflection of the morning scene.
This
is the life most don’t want to see…the life many deny but is ever-present in every
community. I know.
