I'm sitting on the steps of a church smoking, waiting to meet a friend. On Mondays the church sorts and packages clothes and food for donation. I notice on the side of the church there is an old man waiting by the side door. He is short and thin, his baggy cloths are dirty, his grey hair unwashed.
After a couple minutes he approaches the stairs where I am sitting.
Old Man: 'scuse me.
He sits on the stairs just below me. He has a to-go Styrofoam container with food in it which he begins to eat quietly. It's a Thanksgiving meal- turkey, stuffing, corn, and mashed potatoes. At first I'm nervous he'll ask me for money or a cigarette but he doesn't. We sit in silence. He eats, I smoke. We sit this way for about ten minutes.
It strikes me as incredibly sad. This old man eating a donated Thanksgiving dinner in the middle of summer. With the air so hot and humid I wonder how he could be enjoying it. I chastise myself, any food is welcome when you're hungry.
I wonder if he is waiting there for the same reason I am. I suspect he is not. I think if things were different I could be him. I think there was a time when the gutter held a certain glamour, a certain romance for me and that I am glad I am free from that delusion. I think his present could still be my future if I'm not diligent, if I'm not attentive, if I'm not wary. I silently thank him for his unconscious reminder.
He does not smell, he is not rude or pushy, he is not angry, he is simply sad. And the sadness follows him like a loyal dog. Regret too. I can feel the weight of his regret.
I think we are not much different him and I. Two men sitting on the steps of a church. One smoking, one eating.
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