Driving down 5th is the only way to get to the freeway from my sister’s and brother-in-law’s house. I usually catch a red light on the corner as I approach the freeway entrance. Sometimes there’s someone waiting there—sometimes a couple people huddled together. They’ve made a makeshift cove under some trees, right along a fence that separates them from the small slope leading down to I-5. A wheelchair, blue tarp and some plastic bags serve as fixtures in their small space.
It was pretty late this particular evening. Close to 11pm. I didn’t expect anyone would be waiting on the corner with a sign, though as I approached the intersection, I quickly tried to recall what I had in my car that I might offer, just in case someone was there. Did I have any food? Spare change? (I never keep cash on me so that was unlikely) What could I share in case someone was there? Continue reading