My temporary home in the city is a beautiful apartment in an block of mansions. A hundred years ago the early and newly rich of Seattle built these homes and lined the street with trees. They preserved vistas of lakes and mountains. I am thrilled that on most days the sidewalks are alive with adults and children who love being in this neighborhood. I never tire of watching the bikers and strollers from the six windows of my living room. I know that I am blessed to be able to walk to work, coffee shops, great restaurants and a bus to anywhere from this wonderful spot.
I am also struggling and miserably conflicted - because recently an older van/suv has been parked on the street near my building, and clearly it is a man's home. He keeps the van clean, and he appears himself to be clean though a bit ragged. He talks to himself and sputters and coughs a bit. He is gone most of the day, and returns to sleep each night. He moves the van a few inches a day to avoid parking fines. I wonder if he is down on his luck, out of work and homeless, or working nearby and saving his money, or if he is a psychopath.
I feel like I should do something but I do nothing. I wish I wasn't a little afraid. I want to live in a country where people are not forced to live in their cars or in tents or cardboard boxes. I feel guilty that I have two homes at the moment and this guy has just a car to sleep in. I want to feel safe and at the same time I want to be a compassionate and generous human being. I wish this guy (some mother's son) would move on. I wish I was Mother Teresa.
3 hours ago