Bed Time

It was dark already, after a long day running around, and getting close to nothing done. Except maybe spending lots of time sitting on bus benches. I had an appointment to get a pair of diabetic shoes fitted that was clear across town, on the West Side. It was at the Veteran's Medical Center, and I could not get the job done at the down town clinic, where I usually go. I was tired when I reached my camp. It was way up high upon a hill...
I thought about my friend C. Raynor. He was a good old rough and tumble friend of mine who I met in Phoenix Arizona. I got tricked into moving to Phoenix some years ago, by the ex-wife. Who unbeknownst to myself had devised a hideous plan to get us relocated near some dude with Harley. When I finally got wise and me and the ex had the big confrontation she apologized. Her excuse was that she felt the opportunity to be wealthy when this other guy was probably her last shot at catching a hubby with money. For some reason she thought I was destined for big things.
I landed on the streets in Phoenix after a huge blow up with the ex. She really wanted me out of our apartment. Enough so that she thought if she just stand in the center of the living room and yell her head off some of the neighbors would call the cops. She had it figured that the police would force me to leave the premises on the basis of domestic abuse, and her being fearful or some such thing. In any case she figured correctly and the cops did indeed escort me from the two bed room apartment we shared. Afterwards these police drove me down town to the Central Arizona Shelter Services. Also known as CASS. First though I spent a few rough nights on the streets because I never sleep in shelters, as a rule.
I met C. Raynor in the old Central Park in Down Town Phoenix. The city tore the park down a few years back and developed a City Walk over it. I use to lay in that park with other Homeless People. I was introduced to the community, as it were, from this location. It is where the other street people got to know me, and where I met most of them. Informally speaking, homeless people tend to be familiar with the other characters they share the streets with. C. Raynor and I fell in with each other pretty quickly. He reminded me of an old drinking buddy of mine, Sgt. Edward James Gallagher USAR, now deceased.
I was dragging out my bed roll from underneath an gnarled old tree and spreading out my blankets on the dirt. I shook out a Mexican pancho and a giant lizard fell out of it and landed on the ground, scampering away into the darkness that was all around. I thanked the good Lord in Heaven, because I saw the lizard as a good omen.
Old C. Raynor had a girl then that he ended up marrying. Her name was Maggie. She was Black and nearly blind. He had a terrible disease that left her skin covered in tumors. She lost a leg up to the knee due to this disease. As these two friends of mine were seemingly brought to my memory I whispered a quiet prayer for them. Who knew where they were or what they were going through. If C. Raynor kept true to form though it could be anything.
I turned over into my blanket and rolled into a human burrito. It had been getting awfully cold the last few nights and Winter, and rain were right around the corner. A biting cold wind began to sweep over the hill top where I slept. I began to realize that the blankets I had were not going to be a match for the cold wind blasting me every lonely dark night with it's bitter freezing, harshness.
Everyone on the street has a story. Some stories are similar, a few are highly unusual. These sad tales of another human being's reality can also share certain features. A ex spouse, for instance. Estranged family, separated by sometimes more than physical distance, but also by the gulfs created by misunderstandings and ignorance and just plain losing touch.
I have relatives who are still living. Some of whom I am close to by virtue of a common history, and home. There are a few loved ones who I am intensely lonely for and who I am kept from seeing by circumstances beyond any control. My heart aches for these dear close relatives of mine. God knows I miss them with all my might. It hurts knowing that I may never get to see these important people in my life ever again until the next life in Paradise. Meanwhile circumstances force me to cease dwelling on things that hurt the emotions. Bruised emotions can stall and hinder even the simple mundane routine of the least complicated individual. Life is hard as it is without dragging up melancholy longings that can not be filled.
I am impressed that I must pray. I have too.
I can not go to sleep without taking all my thoughts and apprehension to my Creator. I can not let exhaustion keep me from acknowledging the Man Up Stairs...
Man! Another day.
Tomorrow may not be there for me. Now that day has ended, a whole other situation has to be dealt with. Night. The dark time hours have it's own set of worries. People have to sleep after all. Most of us like to feel safe and comfortable during the night. For Homeless People the challenges of staying safe at night have long ago crept into just another same old same old. Some don't bother to think about it.
What for? It will only keep you up.