It was right at the start of this pandemic. For some reason, I felt like I should give him and his boo some good food. Not a dollar. Not fruit, cereal bar, candy. Not even Popeye’s. A full, healthy meal.
As it was raining a lot these days, I knew they needed warm food. So I went to that local joint and bought some soul food for them. Four wings, beans rice and greens. Two fat plates. It wasn’t cheap but it was worth it.
I swing by their spot in the middle of the afternoon. I put the container down at her feet. She’s almost in denial about the smell. He’s gone doing whatever he does but comes back as I’m leaving.
He starts smiling when he opens up his container. They thank me with this little shame on their faces that I don’t pay no mind to. I smile back and nod.
The next day, it’s pouring pouring. I’m a bit nuts to go shoot my basketball but it’s just like brushing my teeth at this point. They’re dead asleep on the concrete, sheltered by a small cantilevered roof. He knows I’ll be there like I always am or he hears my keys. Either way, he manages to rise out of his pile of blankets to wave at me and give me that look that says “son you don’t even know right now how much we needed this shit”. I’ll never forget those thankful, grateful, teary eyes. They were loud.
The third day, it’s sunny again. As I walk through the park, I see them sitting in their little camp, conversation is flowing, they’re smiling and laughing. This is where It hit me.
The first day, they were surviving. Mad, uncomfortable, busy.
The second day, they were digesting. Big amount of food to process, rain, rest.
The third day, they’re living. They feel alright, they can now sit, talk and even joke.
And now it hits me again: as a metaphor for Life, I think I’m finishing that second day.