Just Be Thankful

This morning I gave all the money I had in my wallet to a woman on the C train. $2.00 and change. She had shuffled on at High Street Brooklyn Bridge and began her plea for help with the requisite nicety, "I am sorry to bother you...". She said she had been homeless for 2 weeks. The shakiness in her voice made me break the barrier many New Yorkers use as their first line of defense against crazies and other nuisances. I made eye contact. She wore grey soiled sweatpants and dragged a small cobalt blue suitcase on wheels. The heavier baggage she carried under her eyes, which were dark and sunken. As she accepted my money, she avoided my eyes.

My decision to react was voluntary yet automatic for, last night, I experienced the panic of not knowing where to lay my head. After a whirlwind of unexpected interviews, I now have a job in New York. I received the offer last Friday and started this Monday, leaving me little time to find an apartment or gather my things from DC. Because I am blessed, a friend has lent me her couch for a few weeks until I find a place. Yesterday evening, exhausted from acclimating to a new job, I came "home" with a plan for a shower and a savory meal. Instead I found an apartment undone. The exterminators had been there, leaving the air murky with chemicals and the couch where I sleep damp with the cold air rushing in from the warehouse-sized window above. It was 9:30, I was exhausted and feeling disoriented. My friend and I realized that we might not be able to sleep there. I slid down the wall into a crouched position, reviewing my options. I made a few calls, no one answered. I sent a few texts and finally a blanket email, apologizing and asking whoever could help to call me asap. In the end, we started cleaning and righting the apartment. I threw 3 sheets under me to absorb any dampness, we ordered a pizza and I passed out thinking that, if this was the hardknocks welcome back to NY, I was going to grin and bear it and eventually conquer it. I slept and woke up surprisingly well. I'm sitting here at work, 15 minutes early, realizing that what my friend said last night is cliche but true. It could be much worse. And it is for many people.

Soon after the woman moved from our car to the next, another person in need asked for our attention and our aid. Though he didn't tell us his story, it was clear he had been homeless for many more weeks than two. The plastic bags he wore and carried had transformed him into an amorphous, monotone blob of ash and grit. The salt and pepper sprigs on his face clung together into a matted beard, his skin was rough and prematurely aged. I had no money left, but I said a silent prayer for him as my gaze met his.

As I walked to work, I checked my email and found a myriad of responses from friends offering their homes. Feeling spoiled, it was very clear that I need to do more for those in need. To whom much is given, much is expected.

Here's a song for today...