good night and good luck

We run a couple of programs that are funded only during the cold weather months. Yesterday was the final night of the season which means a lot of folks won't have a place to sleep tomorrow. I dropped by to see how things were going around dinnertime; I wanted to say goodbye to a couple of friends and thank some others for working long hours all winter long.

I was sad to see how full the place was. Mostly because in the back of my mind all I can think is that these hundred or so people aren't going to have this place tomorrow. There is always a special BBQ on the last night, and there was a round of applause from the guests as they got in line to get their food. I wasn't eating but I clapped too, a forced cheerfulness that didn't quite seep under my skin.

I overheard several folks saying their goodbyes, swapping tentative destinations; corners or parks where they might find each other over the weekend. A few were trading belongings, the guy with two razors gave one to the guy with an extra pair of socks, and so on.

The mood was somber. It's not like the last night at camp where the mood is buzzing with what comes next and who's doing what, this was a reluctant sort of happiness; happy that they've got full bellies but behind the smiles was weariness. It's been a long season already, and it's not going to get any easier for most. It must be so exhausting. Each day must feel like years.

I was getting ready to leave when there was a bit of commotion. It seems that either facing the next unknown was a bit too much, or perhaps it was a last hurrah, and that mixed with heroin is a wicked combination. Staff called 911 while he was convulsing on the bathroom floor. An overdose, intentional or not still causes the same physical reaction; I've not seen it a lot but the few times I have it's sickening at best. I had M with me so when things went south I couldn't stick around, and besides, once they get in the bus we don't often hear how things turned out except for word of mouth.

Sometimes this place is no place for a baby, some might say it never is. There were one or two other kids there with their mom who didn't have the same luxury of having somewhere else to go. M didn't see inside the bathroom so there weren't any questions about why that man was on the floor. I was happy not to have to find an answer. Even still, we were both rather quiet on the drive home.

My mood was somber tonight and I still can't sleep; I lay comfortably in my bed with clean sheets, my child tucked in her bed and J nearby. I know where I am going to sleep tomorrow, and it seems that that alone should make me feel less unsure, but the truth is it all seems muddled, BBQ mixed with pain and suffering, potato salad on the side.