Another mucky gray sky.
Not even 30 degrees outside.
Not even 30 degrees outside.
Felt sorry for myself.
Missed my husband. My kids.
To get out of my funk, hooked a leash on George and headed out the door.
Took my usual route, past Trader Joe's market, a favorite spot for homeless people to sell newspapers.
Caron (pronounced Ca-rown) stood next to the telephone pole at the crosswalk.
"How ya doing?"
"Great. Like your dog."
"Thanks."
Took a few steps - told MYSELF, "Don't get stuck talking. It's too cold."
Then turned around.
"How's business?"
"O.K. Yesterday, not so good. Hopefully, today will be better."
Caron explained how she ended up selling these newspapers.
Caron lost her job at a fast-food restaurant.
Then, lost her apartment.
Now lives in a hotel.
Pays $44 per night because she hates sleeping at the women's mission.
"They make you pack up and be gone by 5 a.m. each morning with all your stuff."
"You looking for a regular job?"
"Yes, but if I go job hunting, I don't make any money selling."
"Do you have kids?"
"They're all grown. The youngest is in the pen."
"For what?"
"Drugs."
"You look so young to have someone in prison."
(I know, I say the dumbest things sometimes.)
"I'm 51."
"Ah, we're the same age."
Caron's red lipstick outlined her yellow teeth.
"Have a great day. I hope you sell lots of papers."
"Thanks, you have a great day too."
"Bye George."
An hour later, stopped to pay $10 for her $1 newspaper, but Caron was gone.
Haven't seen her since.
Hope that means she found full-time work.
Want to thank her for shining some light on what's important in life.
