One Cold Night

Well, I wasn't sure what the sound was that woke me. It's best described as a young child in distress with a very faint cry. I untucked myself from my sleeping bag and carefully in slow movements lifted my woven cotton toque above my chilled ears. Listening ever so patiently while exhaling in slow rhythmic unlaboured function, it was evident that I probably was hearing things. You see, living on the streets in the cold months the sounds seem to echo in various directions with no particular point of origin. Now mind you, that sound, the distressed sound of cries happens a lot. It could have been a possibility that my sleeping bag was not covering the manhole on the sidewalk, and the escaping vapors of heat that are cherished so dearly made this faint cry. You see being homeless our minds are usually on high alert for any potential threats or sounds while we attempt to sleep. Well, I shouldn't speak for everyone, but this is how I feel. Maybe, just maybe the sewer gas that absorbs into my sleeping bag and the labored breathing in my sleep draw in these toxins. I am not sure but I hear all things are possible from others on the street. Gee, you know come to think of it, I haven't seen a doctor in maybe fifteen years. Maybe more, because honestly, I don't recall what year this is.

That sound that haunts me, it's just going to be that I guess.

As I shimmied my way out of my sleeping bag completely I wrapped my bedroll and carefully was able to pack it into my backpack. While daylight was maybe an hour or so away from breaking the night sky, my stomach was demanding my attention. With nothing in my stomach for a couple of days except a few potato chips and drops of soda from nearby trash cans, I knew I needed to eat. The cold nights deplete a lot of energy and all the while trying to stay safe during the day.

It was with all my might that I darted for the curb across the road in front of the hospital to scoop up a half-eaten hotdog dropped beside the trash and onto the road hugging the rubber bruised curbside.

I did well because the hot dog was a jumbo from a local food truck nearby. The sauerkraut was also a very much needed fix for my bacteria-filled distended stomach. Living on the street and refusing help has big disadvantages. Sickness, muggings, and going missing indefinitely are real. If accepting help, then the feeling of being indebted is too overwhelming. Perhaps that could be interpreted as a mental health issue. After all, there is a label for everything. At least that's what some on the street say.

You know, that being said, maybe I should think about the offers I have had. I mean how bad can that be? Though. If I accepted the help, I could have a bed to stay in from the cold, along with a fresh warm bun and hotdog possibly. Maybe even a hot coffee! Wow, what if I could be helped with my distended stomach, and not to mention my blue toes.

Gee, I am going to give this some serious thought. But first, I need to make peace with my stomach. After all, a full belly is a quiet belly, unless you eat from the dumpster behind the donut dump. The donut dump is where most of us homeless go to drop a deuce when we need to and wipe when we can with newspapers. Yup, old newspapers and we throw them in the dumpster. Damn, that smells like some bad shit back there. The inside of the dumpster is pure poison and rats all over.

You know, I just wonder if I did this and got help and accepted the help, what would life be like for me then. I mean, this could be a new chapter in my life, or this could be the conclusion to the story of my life on the streets. What if I have a major medical problem? I have no coverage or no family or friends with stability. All I know is life on the street. Geeze, I am getting worried thinking about this. Maybe if I had some sort of defining salvation. I am not religious by any means, but what if there was a gentle push from beyond for me to see the bigger picture. Ironically enough at that moment I stumbled upon the curb and was laid out on the sidewalk. Disoriented and dizzy while looking up to the sky I saw the opening of the daytime skyline. A falcon flew overhead, looking for prey. So you know, it is very common to see a Peregrine Falcon in the skies here.

And that became my sign to get started to accept some help. As I walked up to the local shelter with my legs uncontrollably shaking in my step, I glanced up again to the falcon. Now to my complete surprise, I noticed a large Barn Owl with the falcon in its mouth. Needless to say, I never turned back or even second-guessed my actions after watching the predators become prey to a much larger stealthier hunter.

Matthew M

Jan 16th, 2021 9:44 pm