Prose
Nice to Meet You
By: Grant Perry
Monday, 4:30 p.m., as I sip my coffee, I gaze out into the street watching people run by, ducking under awnings, hiding under umbrellas, trying to get home and out of their discomfort. I, just like them, was dreading having a momentary gap in my cozy environment.
Hard rubber slides against the floor as the chair across from me is pulled out. “Do you need some space?” I ask, as I bring my belongings closer to me, so the man can put his out as well.
I didn’t pay any attention to the situation at first. Then I saw his belongings. It was a few manila folders that were worn on the edges, wrinkled from overuse. They were filled with paper that had food stains and were warped from getting wet and drying out repeatedly. It all came out of a nylon sports bag that cinches at the top, it was frayed so it didn’t keep the elements out that well.
We finally made eye contact, his were dark and bloodshot. I could almost see his heartbeat through the veins in the white part of his eyes. The white parts weren’t white, they were this yellow color that I have only seen in people that live a hard life. I gave him a welcoming smile and continued to read.
While I was being nosey, trying to get a better look at his papers, he got my attention. Painfully quite I heard “Can you help me out?” I questioned, “What do you need?” He said, “Maybe some money for a drink or some food?” Since I don’t like giving money to people I don’t know, I said “I will buy you a sandwich if that’s okay?” His acknowledgement of my willingness to help was as painful as his beaten voice, he slightly nodded his head in agreeance. I ordered him a hot Ham n’ Cheese, warm food always soothes the soul.
Since I just bought the man some food I figured I would get to know him. As I walked back to the table he was sitting at, I reached out my hand and asked, “What’s your name?” As he stood up, he replied with “Demetrius.” I noticed he was quite a bit taller than me but very skinny. My name was called so I got up to retrieve Demetrius’s sandwich from the counter, it looked delicious with those dark brown grill marks from the Panini maker. I put the sandwich down next to him and saw him take a huge first bite. I went back to reading for about a minute, I looked up again, and it was gone.
“Where are you from?” I asked. “Columbus” he said. I inquired further, “Where have you been staying?” He responded with, “Valley Mission, I was at salvation Army, but they kicked me out because I didn’t make my bed” He seemed talkative, so I kept it going, “Are you working?” Demetrius said, “No, I just got out of jail, but I have to find work, it’s just hard, I don’t have an ID. I Lost it when I got arrested.”
He talked quite a bit, so I assume he hadn’t had anyone just listen to him in a while. Other than the several months in jail he served he received three years of probation for a possession charge, he said the cocaine wasn’t his. I learned probation costs $32 a month and one of the requirements is to find employment. But, to find employment he needs an ID but that ID costs him $32 as well, he has no money. Now I wonder what his options are.
Among the many things he doesn’t have are a phone, a computer, or a car. He said he was taking G.E.D. classes, but how does he even get to them? He doesn’t have a car, bus money, or family, he said his mom was in Atlanta. He actually gave me her number, so I could somehow get back in touch with him. If he even does get to his classes, how does he study? He had a dull pencil, no phone, no computer to look things up, and he could barely spell, when we were looking up places for him to stay he asked me to spell shelter.
It seemed like he was getting ready to leave. He got up to get a plastic bag for his belongings because it was still raining outside. He tried to say something to a few people, but they largely ignored him. It was either they didn’t hear him, or they just didn’t care to have another momentary break in their comfort.
As he was packing his stuff up to leave, we started talking about church. I asked him if he had a bible, he did, so I asked to see it. It was a pretty raggedy, new testament version, paper back edges folded over the pages from too much wear and tear from a bag or back pocket. I flipped through the tissue paper thin pages and saw what may have been his only dollar folded up. After seeing his money, I felt awkward, it was as if he caught me looking through his wallet, I closed it immediately. I showed him my bible and his eyes lit up. It was an ACU camouflaged one that I always use and bring everywhere with me. Before he left, I immediately gave him my bible, I felt it was the least I could do.
As he got up to walk back into the discomfort that everyone else was running from, I stood up to shake his hand. “Demetrius, it was nice to meet you.”
Lost Somewhere In Between
We are sick, we know it.
The sooner we conclude that it’s chronic and that we can’t cure it the sooner you will be able to live with it.
It will come and go, sometimes we can see it a mile away like a mountain, anticipating it and hating the trek we will have to begin knowing it might wreck us.
Other times there is an earthquake far out in the ocean of the unknown. You don’t see it coming but it creates a wave that creeps up on you, then…wham…it hits you in the face and just carries your mind away.
Yet we always get to the top of the mountain to walk down the other side or we grab onto something to keep from getting swept out into the sea.
But we get lost somewhere in between the calamities. We are either too focused on the future to remember that we just climbed Mt. Everest or we are too scared of the past that we forget to hold onto something before we get swept into the unknown.
We need to remember that everyday we are alive we have won, and it has lost.
We must not forget the beauty of what we can see from the top and the strength we had when we last held on.
Lest we forget we are survivors.
Do not forget the past or pay no attention to the future. We should pay the due’s it is to receive
At last we should never forget where we are. We are in our lives, living every day. We should look forward to the mountains because we love the view at the top. We should train, to be ready, to know what to hold onto when the waves try to sweep us away.
We know where we are, not lost in between, but living throughout.