Where Did She Go?

A bench in a park is not always just a bench in a park. 

I'm looking at this bench from my front porch. It's 32 degrees this morning; a bone chilling, damp kind of day which means if the temperature drops it would probably snow and it's windy. It's a little more blustery in the park because the wind picks up its pace as it blows across the field, over the pond and past the bench. The day is gray and the park doesn't look inviting to me at all.


If you really squint you can see shades of red beyond the pond and through the trees. That was my kids' middle school. If you could look hard right, you'd be able to see the grade school. This is the park where kindergarden soccer, little league and Pop Warner football takes place. The community holds a fishing tournament in that pond on Father's Day where many a large mouth bass has been caught. The sled hill is a hundred yards to the left just beyond the playground. I'm surprised there wasn't someone walking their dog down the side walk just as I was snapping this picture.


Saturday was our town's monthly night for P.A.D.S. (Public Action to Deliver Shelter) at the church one block from the park and kiddie corner from the grade school. How did I know this? From the bench. 


Coming home from breakfast yesterday (Sunday), we noticed someone sitting on the bench completely cocooned by a giant coat, hood pulled over the face; the entire bench and surrounding area scattered with belongings always within view. We know exactly this person's plight and where they spent the night before because we've volunteered at P.A.D.S. We surmise its a woman because she's tiny but we won't ever really know.

There's a church within the county that provides a guaranteed hot meal and a warm bag on a floor in a basement each and every night from October through April (Housing Calendar). During the day, the homeless wander away with every last stitch they own, carrying everything out of one town until arriving at a different church, in a different town. They come to our town once a month and always on a Saturday.

I've looked at the calendar and the shelter for Sunday night is 15 miles away! How will she do this? She doesn't have a shopping cart or wagon to transport her things. She's already made her decision because, while I'm inside my house sipping beer, eating wings and watching the Super Bowl, she's still on the bench and remains there until the morning when I see her on my way home from the coffee shop. It's not a safety issue for her in relation to violence; she won't be bothered and, in fact, the police will check on her but how will she survive the cold? I had no idea she would spend last night outside. 


I'm a little choked up as I stroke these keys. 


I should have done SOMETHING. 


I didn't do enough. 


I feel like I took one step forward with compassion and empathy and two steps back due to lack of action.

Yesterday, and even this morning, the photo would have looked much differently. It was taken today, when empty, out of respect for the last occupant of the bench and my desire to provide her a small amount of privacy.

JustBeEnough