single file

i happened to be around at check in time. the line was long and ragged and heaving and jovial and shuffling and cold. i sat for awhile and watched folks going through the drill, the man with the security wand waving it over outstretched arms, the other with gloves on doing discreet bag checks, weapons you see, they are not allowed.

i notice one guy, his belongings are in an old 10 gallon bucket. he lifts it up on the table for the cursory look. the guy behind him is bouncing, cracking jokes. his red hat tells me which team he favors or perhaps he simply wore it because it was all he had.

the woman in the wheelchair, she's smoking and spinning her chair in listless circles. her hair's a bit matted, eyes darting around. she's got a bag on her lap, she looks unhappy and it's easy to imagine why. a social worker walks out and talks to her, she smiles a bit and starts talking, talking, talking. the social worker listens. i know this listening, sometimes it's all you've got.

i spot someone i know so i jump off the desk i am perched on to go say hello. a man opens a door for me, a tall man with a shirt that says he's a vietnam vet. he's staying here along with vets from almost every war we've had in the last fifty years. i thank him and he smiles a beautiful broad smile. i smile back and walk through the door, his veteran-ness not lost upon me and a thousand questions cross my brain and i ask none of them because the moment is not right.

there's an old guy, he's limping and has a long bushy beard. he bends over to pick up something he's dropped and for a minute i think he's going to fall over. someone else steadies him, puts his hand on his back and picks up the dropped item and hands it to him. the old guy smiles, mumbles a few words and limps inside.

another man heads into the building and walks up to the desk. he asks to use the phone and is told he has to wait. there are rules for that here too, see. even a simple phone call requires a process. i understand these things, these many peace keeping things that are necessary when you are warehousing human beings and yet at the same time it all seems so complicated, this stripping of rights in the name of mercy.

and then a guy walks past the desk grinning and announces they've got BBQ tonight, y'all. A few of the guys clap their hands, this shelter meal perhaps a bright spot in the midst of endless circles, of waiting and cold and fear and loneliness and for a brief moment the thought of food is uniting, the hope of a hot meal and a spot of kindness along the way.