where i used to live.

you never saw it. and if you did. well, you didn't. anywhere you looked, it was not there.  never.  all you saw was manicured lawns, nice cars and well dressed people.

then i moved ten miles away. ten miles. and now on my daily drive home i am confronted with the hard reality of this daily. a mile stretch of road, there they are.  on park benches, on the side of the road, leaning up against buildings. sometimes just them, sometimes just them and a child, sometimes they have a grocery cart full of their worldly possessions, sometimes they need a jacket, sometimes they have a jacket.

but still look cold. and lonely. and tired.

if i am out early, there is a building that serves breakfast at eight am; and they will be standing outside waiting for the doors to unlock. so they can get heat and food. food that i probably would not like. food that i would probably not be thankful for. it makes me uncomfortable to see them on the side of the road and i lock my door.

and then i think of their reality. how did they get here? what is their story? are they lonely? tired? or are they happy?

and then i think of my reality. how did i get here? what is my story?

sure, there are still manicured lawns, nice cars and pretty people. but also there is reality all around. and as hard as it is to see, it is almost refreshing to not see perfection everywhere you look. you see life in the eyes of many people. maybe a hard life. maybe a bad life. maybe a good life, but life.

how did you get here? what's your story?