Neighbors

Feb 24, 2009 17:27

As I was trudging up the hill tonight after work I saw a woman ahead of me, coming down. I've seen her lots of times before. She lives at the homeless shelter at the bottom of the hill--a unique, alcohol-allowed shelter for chronic inebriates who have been deemed permanently incapable of dealing with their addictions. The idea is that that small population was causing such a high number of 911 calls as they hit crisis after crisis on the streets that by putting them in a stable, semi-controlled environment the government could actually save money in the long run (not to mention improving the quality of life for a lot of people). I don't know how it's penciling out, but that's beside the point.

I'd seen this woman before. She seems to have a daily routine of going up the hill and then returning to the shelter late in the day. You can see in her face that her mind has been severely damaged by the years of alcohol and who knows what else. She barely registers her surroundings, and I've never seen her speak to anyone as she shuffles along. I'd guess she's about 60. Today as I got closer to her I realized that a guy was trying to catch up with her--he was hurrying through the crosswalk calling out, "Scuse me! Scuse me!" until he finally reached her, out of breath. She still seemed unaware of anything, but he caught her by the elbow and reached towards her hand.

"God bless you, baby." He tucked a couple coins into her hand, turned, and jogged back across the street before the light changed.
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