You would never guess in a million years that she is, or was, homeless. For quite some time she stayed at the Family Support Center, a shelter in the downtown area of our city. Every morning bright and early she would dress up and head out from the shelter, looking as pretty as she could with what little she had. I would spot her around town occasionally, walking crisply with her belongings in a couple bags. Im not sure if she has a mental illness or not, but there is definately a story to her. Tonite I was sent to a rather ramshackle apartment building, run down from years of neglect, but inexpensive to those of little income. And there she stood, by the street corner, surrounded by a few bags and baskets. She is of Asian or Philippino descent, soft spoken and a touch of an accent. She asks me to deliver these items, and upon closer inspection, I realize it is food. Alot of it! Veggies and bread and more items under cover of a tissue paper. On the paper are notes and numbers scrawled in all directions, the address of my delivery repeated almost frantically. I hesitate because we are not in the parcel delivery business, but she mentions the words donation and a family. Perhaps less fortunate than her? Perhaps she feels a need to give after she has recieved? When I arrive, some children bouncing around inside, I am met at the door by a young lady, and she seems to be a younger version of the one I had just left at the other end of town. She seems confused. A delivery? From who? And theres more? Unsure how much I should divulge, I simply state the address I picked up from and I am met with a blank look. My gut tells me that perhaps they are estranged from each other, interaction a minimum. Bewildered as I return with more, she suddenly blurts My mother... and a slight look of concern mixed with thankfulness and also confusion. She just stood there and stared at the food for a few minutes. I briefly put my hand on her shoulder and said I think it WAS your mother...you are pretty like her and smiled. As I got back in the cab I remember another word the mother had quietly said before I left, Thanksgiving...
Posted on: Mon, 06 Oct 2014 03:41:41 +0000
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