*Nuts
I stop at the corner bodega before I go visit with my little squirrel friends. Standing by the doorway is a man who may be homeless. He is dirty and disheveled. I've seen him before in this part of the neighborhood hanging about. I've seen someone stop and talk to him. He doesn't look to be in the best of health. He has weeping sores on his legs and I can see on of his ankles is a bit more swollen than the other, although both are certainly swollen.This homeless man is large and dirty, matted long hair and more than a little scary. I wonder what it is the other man had to say to him. I hope it was an offer of kindness, of food. I wonder what it is that stop me from asking him if he needs help.It may be that I don't know if there is help that I can give him. Definitely an aspect of fear involved. Don't talk to strangers. Most homeless people on the streets are mentally ill. Engaging a certainly strange, possibly mentally ill person might not be the best idea.
I head back to my garden spot and sit amidst the squirrels. They hop about around the big oak tree, like a football players watching for a fair catch. I am again delighted with how ferociously they eat at the nuts or whatever it is they find after digging away in the dirt.
Nuts, they say, when speaking of something chintzy or mean, a dissapointment. Those nuts aren't a disappointment at all to those hungry squirrels. I think about bringing this homeless man a bag lunch with some juice, fruit and a sandwhich the next time I see him.
posted by theShizzKnit @ 2:52 PM
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