Water of Life

Hunkered down, a butt between his fingers and his hair a mat of dusty tangles, he didn't completely block the sidewalk. I kept my eyes straight forward and tried to disappear as I walked by--but he made me.

He croaks at me, "You're a beautiful lady!"

It's just a little disturbance, right? Then why am I suddenly ashamed as I stride quickly into the Starbucks. He's still out there. He's human. Probably a vet--the VA's down the street. The differences between us shouldn't make him an alien. This is how it starts, isn't it? Fear interferes with humanity. I grab a large bottle of water with my coffee. Bottled water is almost sweet compared to anything that's free in the city. It's not much, but many are thirsty and do not drink.

I hold out the water and expect almost anything. He receives it with a look of surprise. His eyes sparkle with intelligence, lucidity, and I see that under the hair and sun he has been handsome in his life. Does he choose this life, or has it been thrust upon him? Perhaps he is truly free in his homelessness and I am the impoverished one.

I say "God bless you," and he is speechless.

Something changes for me in that moment and my fear dissolves. I look forward to the next opportunity. I hope I rise to the occasion.