Post by Misha
Inside my home, warm and safe, it’s easy to feel lost.
Sometimes I walk to the grocery store at midnight when the pavement is still warm. Walk past the encampment of tents next to the freeway. In December there was a Christmas tree all decorated. I wondered if they brought the decorations from a house they lost right before the holidays.
Sometimes I buy a sandwich or a six pack for the lady who lives in the tent at the end with her dog. It makes me feel dirty and hopeless but not as bad as if I don’t. She gave me her business card once which she’d had them made the week before she was evicted. She tells me she’s trying to make it to Nebraska to live with her sister. She tells me she’s Hebrew and Sioux and says a Christian prayer for me. I don’t know what to say.
I come home and drink the wine that I bought with a disposable income in my comfortable, overpriced apartment. I don’t feel less lost.