The man under the overpass

I was walking to work along my usual route through the park when I noticed something different. The old man who was usually sitting on the bench by now, giving me a nod as I passed by, was still laying down under the overpass. I had never talked to him, just nodded back every morning. It was our routine for as long as I have walked to my pathetic dead end job, so I guess about 3 years. I couldn't recall one other occasion where this man was absent for our morning acknowledgement in all that time.

Upon closer inspection I could see he was laying in the direct sunlight with zero attempt to shield himself from the heat. I walked closer to the overpass not really knowing what I planned to do once I got to his campsite. Halfway there I could see the shimmer of dew built up on his pale hands and knew that he was dead. He was probably in his early 60's with greying black hair that he kept slicked back at about shoulder length. For being homeless he kept himself pretty clean cut and apart from his hands, which were stained dark with grease and dirt, he appeared pretty clean.

He was stretched out on top of his worn sleeping bag, using a balled up jacket as a pillow. I was thankful that his eyes were closed and hoped that maybe he had died in his sleep. His camp was very small consisting of nothing but a place to sleep and a place to cook. He had a garbage bag full of trash at the far side of his little camp. A backpack and a small tin lunchbox sat next to him in the sun.

I called and reported his death to the local police. Once they showed up, and I answered a few simple questions, they told me I could leave. My heart was racing as I walked back down the path towards my home, I had called out of work by this time. When better to have a mental health day than a day where you find a dead man under an overpass?. My boss wouldn't understand though and tomorrow I was almost sure to be written up for calling out short notice.

Halfway home I decided to take a seat at the pier, look out on the ocean and listen to the waves slap the pillars of the dock. A flock of seagulls cried in the distance. I opened my backpack and took out the little tin lunch box. I don't know why I took it and I can't say I am proud of myself for doing so, but I am glad it happened because what was in that little tin box changed my life in the most amazing way.

The lunchbox reminded me of one my younger brother had when we were in elementary school. It had a faded image of the mystery machine from Scooby-doo painted on it and was rusted in spots where the paint had chipped off. I opened the latch and wiggled the lid open. The first thing I saw was the little black leather notebook with the initials S.T. indented into the cover. I picked it up and flipped through a few pages, it was clearly a journal and filled with little sketches of all sorts of things from plants to people. I popped it into my backpack to read later and continued poking through the contents of the lunchbox. There was a pair of wedding rings, an old dog collar, a small wooden elephant figurine and a balled up satin bag that took up most of the box. I pulled the bag out and unrolled it, surprised by the weight of it. I unzipped the top and peeked inside. At first I was not sure what I was looking at, I gave the bag a little shake to move the contents inside and that's when I realized I was looking at rolls of cash.

Almost in a panic I threw everything into my backpack and hurried back to my apartment. I emptied the contents of my bag onto my bed and organized it all in front of me. $20,000 in cash was rolled up in that satin bag. I didn't know how to feel. I had so many questions and concerns, the first being why was this man sleeping under an overpass for 3 years with twenty grand in his damn lunchbox?! I ran my fingers over the hundred dollar bills then picked up the little black book.

To my surprise the journal was written by a woman who signed her name as Savanna. The first few entries talked about her preparations to take on the challenge of hiking the Appalachian trail, her recent divorce from her high school sweetheart and her secret love for a man she does not yet name. I packed up the money into the lunchbox with the other contents, ordered myself a pizza and leaned back into my pillows before continuing to read along.

Savanna was an artist, she drew inspiration from the world and people around her, her sketches were so detailed that they would pull you into them. There was one sketch of a young man drinking coffee on a stoop, he was looking away, into the distance, with messy hair and a tired expression on his face. I could relate to the image too well.

Memories of my morning routine flashed through my head, dragging myself out of bed with the promise of coffee. A substance I was heavily addicted to. Sitting in my bed, staring off out the window and dreading the idea of work. I couldn't tell you which is worse, dealing with my co-workers or the customers. Some mornings are harder than others, some mornings I cry.

I continued reading the little black book. Savanna went on some crazy adventures with this man. They spent months hiking through the woods, foraging, camping, looking out over beautiful mountain top views and singing by campfires. On days where it was sunny and warm they would meet other hikers, share stories and laugh with each other. On rainy days they would sleep in and discuss hard truths about life in society.

This Man in the drawing was her best friend, her support, her partner in life. From the way she wrote about him you would think they were made for one another. They went on true adventures, hand in hand exploring the world whenever they had the chance. When life got hard they would hold each other close and take care of one another. A passage stuck out to me, Savanna wrote "There were no fights between us, just communication, understanding and love, we needed nothing more". They finished that hike with a bond like none I have experienced in my lifetime.

My phone Buzzed, pizza was here. I made the drivers day by tipping him $100. I'm not usually so giving with my money but right now I didn't care. I wanted to continue prying into the life of this lady of adventure. I climbed back into my pillows, put the book on my lap and opened the pizza box. With a slice in one hand and the book in my other, I continued reading.

Almost a year had passed since the last entry. For the first time, a name is given for this man in her life. Ty had picked up a job in northern Maine as a trail guide for the past summer and Savanna was working at a local brewery. They had bought a van and were living out of it while they saved up enough money to move on in their travels. On a cold night in late October they started their drive south with only $6,000 in their pockets. They didn't have a plan exactly, drive south until warm and then continue west.

The next few entries were short and simple, describing different places they stopped along their route. They found a place in Tennessee that was like an amusement park in the middle of the woods, surrounded by mountain wilderness. They rafted down white water rapids in South Carolina. Explored Carlsbad caverns in New Mexico and looked out over the Grand canyon in Arizona. Savannah raves about the geysers of Yellowstone and the Redwoods of California. It was there that they found their new traveling companion, A little stray dog they decided to name Hero. There were pages of drawings in between each entry. Mostly landscapes and wildlife but some of Ty and Hero.

Life changes after high school, you grow up with all these people you get to know, follow the same path until graduation and then everyone goes their separate way. It's been months since I have heard from any of my friends. I can't be angry with them. They are simply doing what they need to, they are learning how to get by in this world. I hope they are happier than I am. I have never traveled out of state. I stayed in my comfort zone for my entire life, admiring nature documentaries while cuddled into my blankets. Whenever I was invited to go places in high school I always found a reason not to go. The truth is I was scared, but, now I feel like I have missed out on something important.

I flipped through the drawings in the book. There weren't many journal entries at this point, just lots of sketches. There were some cute ones of Hero sleeping, he looked like a mix of terrier with maybe cattle dog. In another image you could see the age progression of Ty as the end of the book drew near, He was a dark haired man, probably in his mid 30's. Creases in his forehead and under his eyes showed his age. The last entry was only a paragraph long.

To my dear Ty, Life can be so complicated and unfair but I need you to know that my life was made wonderful by you. I couldn't have asked for a better partner on this journey. You showed me the feeling of true love and showed me beauty in the world around me. There are more adventures for you to have but my time has come to move on. Make sure you give Hero forehead kisses for me and don't forget our agreement. We will meet again love, Forever yours, -Savannah

A small paper folded into fourths fell into my lap, carefully I opened it up. It was a photograph of Savanna sitting in a rocking chair with Hero on her lap. She was smiling and clutching a coffee mug in one hand. Printed along the the top of the image it read "Savannah Theo 12/22/1984 - 06/12/2021"

I grabbed the lunchbox and took out the old beat up dog collar. Engraved on the tag it read "Hero". Clutching the collar and the book, I cried. I cried for Savanna and the man who lived under the overpass, Ty. There were no answers regarding the money or why he made a home in the local park but there was a lesson within those pages. Life is short and unfair but it is also full of beauty and adventure. If you take a deep breath, let go of your fears and put your mind to it, you can accomplish amazing feats and truly enjoy the world around you.

-One Month Later-

I took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. It smelled like dead leaves and daffodils. Looking up, I gently touched the wooden trail sign, feeling the indents of the letters and the soft tickle of moss that had grown within the grains of wood. I gripped the straps of my bag and took my first step onto the Appalachian trail. My adventure was just about to begin.