Dog Eyed 10

We are at an inner city fast food joint. A woman about my age comes toward me, unsteadily.

Can I spare any money?
Sure. But I opt to buy her a meal instead.

She says that the manager doesn’t like her in the store. I meet her with the bag in the parking lot.

She tells me “homeless” and “daughter” and “not get along” and I think Jewel then I think failure/mother.

I hug the woman and pray for her as though she is my family, my daughter, my responsibility.

Because she is.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s