(no subject)
I cam across a one dollar bill with words written on it. The first, in my language, easy for me to decipher it's meaning-- 'Pray' the rest in a language foreign to my tongue. Two lines, the first a question, the second the answer (perhaps).
I kept the bill intending to discover the meaning of the scribble. James tried to spend it once and I was horrified at the thought. The day had been exhausting and I capped our trip into Ukiah off by trying on clothes. A terrible mistake I soon found out when I felt a sudden rush of tears in my throat while staring at the mirror in the dirty dressing room. Body issues can be crippling. We left the store to get something to eat and James almost spent the bill. I caught sight of the blue inked 'Pray' before he could hand it off and almost lost myself. 'You can't spend it'
And then, after, we turned onto the road and were nearing the offramp to the highway and home.
His face was so dirty. His clothes, I'm sure, stank. He was filthy and his sign was old, worn, cliche. 'Anything will help."
I gave James the bill. "Here, give it to him"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
And he did, hanging out the passenger side window holding up traffic on State Street so that he could pass a dollar bill to a homeless traveler.
James said he felt bad for only giving him a dollar. I pointed out it was more than anyone else passing by gave. And then we went home to our warm bed, our roof, our food.
Our family.
I kept the bill intending to discover the meaning of the scribble. James tried to spend it once and I was horrified at the thought. The day had been exhausting and I capped our trip into Ukiah off by trying on clothes. A terrible mistake I soon found out when I felt a sudden rush of tears in my throat while staring at the mirror in the dirty dressing room. Body issues can be crippling. We left the store to get something to eat and James almost spent the bill. I caught sight of the blue inked 'Pray' before he could hand it off and almost lost myself. 'You can't spend it'
And then, after, we turned onto the road and were nearing the offramp to the highway and home.
His face was so dirty. His clothes, I'm sure, stank. He was filthy and his sign was old, worn, cliche. 'Anything will help."
I gave James the bill. "Here, give it to him"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
And he did, hanging out the passenger side window holding up traffic on State Street so that he could pass a dollar bill to a homeless traveler.
James said he felt bad for only giving him a dollar. I pointed out it was more than anyone else passing by gave. And then we went home to our warm bed, our roof, our food.
Our family.