Sunday, after our wonderful trip to the amazing Salt Lake City library , we drove over to a downtown Italian deli to pick up some bread and dipping oil. The deli is across the street from a city park that is notorious as a haven for homeless people.
As we drove around the park, to get to Caputo’s, I watched the activity. Two men were walking holding big bags. One man was walking cloaked in a large white blanket. (“Look, Mama, he’s going to find a place to sleep,” Harry explained.) In one area, there was a large collection of people huddled around a couple of cars and tables. (Sometimes churches or organizations bring hot meals to the park for the homeless.) Off to the side of the larger group of people was a make-shift game of baseball. It was 38 degrees out and a neatly dressed woman was pitching to a not-so-neatly dressed man. He never hit the ball, but he kept awkwardly swinging at it and laughing. Patiently waiting in the outfield were a few other men.
We pulled into our parking spot, right across from the baseball game, to begin the unloading ritual (unbuckling car seats, verbal reminders of all rules while in a store, verbal reminders of all rules while crossing a street, verbal reminders of how to NOT hit your sister, etc.) As I jumped out and closed my door, I noticed a woman in the car next to ours changing her shirt. I didn’t think much of it other than to look away so I wouldn’t embarrass her. I quickly noticed, though, that her small car was full. I mean packed to the ceiling with food and piles of clothes, pillows and papers.
I opened the automatic sliding door of my fairly clean, newer minivan feeling guilty. I grabbed Harrison and hugged him tight (as he struggled to touch down onto the street and get away from me!) thinking "I am so lucky."
It was one of those “a-ha” moments. I have a beautiful home – well actually TWO beautiful homes. I am NOT homeless. I have a thoughtful, caring, funny, attractive husband who I want to be with. I am NOT alone. I have amazing children who are the light of my life. They are hard work, but EVERYTHING I could have asked for. I am NOT broke. I can still buy necessities and even beyond that.
When I’m bitching about weight and how FAT I think I am… When I’m bitching about how much it sucks to pay all of my bills… When I’m bitching about my kids’ temper tantrums… Will you please remind me of that woman who lives in her car