neighborly relations

It's early morning at the far side of the park and I see the signs that homelessness is somewhere close. The toiletry bottles stashed under a table, the multiple hotel sized ones, we give those out nightly and that blanket looks familiar too. M and I are on our way to meet some friends.

What's that stuff, she asks and I tell her it's someone's close by. Where, she asks. I don't know, I reply, but as I answer he rounds the corner. Behind the dugout and under the bleachers, I see them sleeping there sometimes but usually not in February.

He sees us nearby, not a threat to his stuff but perhaps closer than necessary. He walks over and has what M would most definitely call a mean face. She wraps her arms around my legs and hides behind them. Out of my element I am sometimes thrown, and on a still not sunny morning in the park with my kid I am thrown a little more.

I think I recognize him, but years of huddled bearded burly haggard tired dirty men can sometimes blur. It's not something I'm proud of because it seems like each face should be carved into my memory. I grab her hand thinking we'll keep going, this happenstance run in doesn't have to be a thing. I've seen her before, he says, pointing at M. Ah, then. Introductions are being made. Here or over at the shelter? I ask because I don't know. Over there. She never sits still does she. More of a statement than a question and to be honest I agree.

That'd be us, I reply. Were you over there last night? Yep, and I slept for shit so left early to try and sleep out here. And then he glances down at her again. Sorry.

If that's the worst thing she hears today then I'll be doing pretty good, I reply and he smiles a half smile, we are still a bit close to his stuff and I see him looking at it and her and probably wondering if she's going to not sit still all over it so I keep holding her hand. I have an extra muffin if she wants it he says. It will never cease to amaze me how many homeless men and women who have almost nothing offer to share what little they do. M is always offered things at work, trinkets and food and sweets and it always touches me. She just ate, but thank you.

Alright then, maybe I'll see you around. And he turns his back and we say goodbye and walk on through the green grass and the grey clouds and the just waking up sounds towards our friends at the other side of the park, the side brimming with kids and snacks and laughter and sand.