Even the homeless have soles

 

For lots of us, weekends are a delight; it's a time to be with family and  friends, to  do chores or simply enjoy ourselves.

For me, you and the person in the photo, it's a time to catch up on much-needed sleep from the week's stress. For the girl in the photo, her bed is a stone step, her apartment is the box.

She's boxed in a corner, trying to get warm after roaming the streets the full day doing whatever she needs to do to be OK with life and welcome the next day.

I can't imagine being her. She has to wake up and leave her space before most businesses open up. She folds her box into the corner of a wall. She's bedded in this space for 2 years,  and for 10 years before that, on  a park bench that's hard as her life.

She's young. I saw her when she seemed/looked much younger, 12 years ago. At that time,  I considered her pretty, with a face as smooth as a child's.

But now, her teeth are worn, cracked and stained. The lines around her mouth are deep and the wrinkles circling her eyes do not dance to a sad song we cannot actually hear.

I'm happy that the office building lets her sleep partly sheltered by its wall. I'm pleased to see that  people give  her handouts of food from time to time. I'm pleased that now, after these years, she smiles and nods as we pass each other.

She's not yours to see. I have her face tucked away in my head and in photos I've stored on external drives.

For you, her left foot must tell the story.