On These Streets

The weather was as fine as fine got, peering out from under its covers and baring its pearly white teeth. The city was abuzz once more, with passerby of many kinds making their way to this store and that. I could hear the soft whirr of engines as they zipped from block to block, eager to reach their destinations in a punctual manner. Those cryophilic few who used to hang around these parts have since tapered off to colder places unknown, and have left piles of melting snow in their place. Every brutal December morning was worth sitting through to see a beautiful day like today. The very idea of thinking to peel off my layers brought a devious grin to my face, as if I'd be committing the crime of public indecency. What shame had I left?

I let my cane cozy up against my thigh this time around, knowing full well that its metal case wasn't cold enough to make me uncomfortable. I unzipped my leather jacket and hung my arms over the spine of the bench beneath me. The air felt so fresh between my arms that it was ticklish. I wasn't brave enough to remove my hoodie quite yet. It was a matter of patience - a patience I have learned to accrue over the years.

You had to have fallen as far as I to reach such a level of complacence. You had to have forgotten the stench of poverty to understand the peaceful intentions of a little sunlight during an afternoon in January. I needed not more than the cart by my side, the bench by my feet, and the sun on my face. This satisfied me to ends that most people would call paltry, but when you are all alone, naked in the face of God with nothing but an overworn pair of khakis and a shirt that is two sizes too big, you learn to love the little things. You learn to love that you walk in a most bizarre fashion, and you learn to love the music your stomach plays as it begs for a morsel more.

You learn to love the feel of a wooden throne around you that arguably lives its days as the only certain home in your life. I know that when I totter down this road, on this exact street, with these exact signs, there will always be this seat awaiting me. I have a lifetime reservation in the heart of a city that beckons for attention. I am the first to arrive and the last to leave the show that Mother Nature puts on for me each day. I could not be more blessed, more beseeched with honor.

It did not matter that I was on my own here, that I could not hold the gaze of any reasonable folk who happened to cross my path. For the time being, I was certain that the sun would rise each day, that the moon would shine each night, and that the blossoming warmth of Spring would arrive every year. I can rest here at this sturdy bus-stop and be absolutely certain that a blindingly yellow vehicle will pull up and open its friendly doors, inviting me to believe in another day of life on these streets.

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