Have you see it yet?
The mass wall of people.
It's getting close to the season... or perhaps we're already in it - The jangle of repeat Christmas music, wreaths of varied design, and the endless string of twinkly lights. It's an annoying reminder that shopping will be expected.
I was out last night with a few co-workers, watching fireworks under a grey clouded sky mixed with spats of rain. The show lasted for 4 minutes, maybe 5. It amazes me that people will huddle close with strangers in hopes to gaze at a man-made wonder. C and I got separated from our group, and when trying to maneuver through the sardine madness, we ended up in a parking garage trying to find a way above ground.
What leads my heart to write this is not because of last night, or the frenzied crowd of Black Friday shoppers; it's more for the silence of the invisible: the folks that find a spot on the pavement, sitting on cardboard carpet, watching a sea of legs rush by. It's easy not to notice them. I wish I could give them all a gift, like a new start. Who couldn't use a new start.
I have a home, and a bed, heat to keep me warm at night, and food in the fridge. I have family, cousins (some near, most far away), and a few good friends. I don't need a whole lot to feel content. I also don't know otherwise (pavement livin'), and hope I never see such a day.
But people on the street: kids, adults, seniors. I can't imagine their everyday. No bed to call their own. No heat to keep them warm at night. No fridge, and sometimes no food.
A week or so ago I was getting to work, pacing quickly up the escalator. It was morning, and rush hour was at its peak. I saw this old man laying on the floor in the subway station, laying like he had collapsed from exhaustion. His hair looked like it hadn't been washed for who knows how long, it was stringy and clung to his face. His eyes half-closed. People rushed passed him, leaving him room. I gave him some money, not much, and he thanked me in a slur of words. I went on, looking back while walking away. I wanted to cry (I did, a bit. Crying now as I write). Where is his family...does he have one? Do they care?
I saw him a week later laying outside on a heating grate.
No one should live like this, especially in Canada. Everyone should have a safe place to call home.
