I was watering my front bed of flowers last night, as I’ve been out of town for a week and it never rains in Sacramento, so my flowers were seriously freaking out.  I had just started a heavy water on my “ketchup and mustard roses” when I saw a homeless guy limping in my direction. I’ve lived in the city long enough in Atlanta, and witness the excessive homeless here in Sac just long enough to know to avoid eye contact and pretend I don’t have a soul. I had ear buds in, and Don Williams was carrying on about Amanda, and her need to find a husband, so I had a distraction. But he stood in front of me, and I finally looked up, made eye contact, and removed my earbuds.

“Can you spray me, please?” Mind you, it’s 104 here, and without water or shade, it’s got to be unimaginable to survive. He was young…like 30s…in an old jersey and ripped sweatpants, and I noticed as he walked up that he had a notable limp.  I changed my sprayer to something lighter and said, “Sure..but I actually feel really weird about spraying you like you’re a plant….but okay.” I sprayed him down, and he thanked me profusely. “I’m Tyler, what’s your name?” Nicholas would kill me for engaging, but I told him my real name and asked him to hang on so I could grab a Gatorade from the downstairs fridge. I came out with a drink, and you’d have thought I gave him a savings bond and apartment to stay in. He cordially moved on….but my heart was bleeding.

I kept watering flowers and was battling the urge to go get him some food. I made a pork dish today, there’s pizza in the fridge, and I had just made Nicholas a sandwich. The amount of food that is wasted in our house makes me sick to my stomach.

But I waited too long.

I ran upstairs and grabbed a sandwich I had just made, wrapped it in paper towel and came out to find him, but he’s a fast limper and he was gone. I left it on the patio, in case he came back, or someone else, and then felt terrible that I had hesitated so long to do the right thing.

I know Sacramento has an enormous homeless problem, but at what point do we cease to be human? I know I can’t save everyone and I know it can be super dangerous, especially if they know where I live, but how do I turn my head when I know I have multiple meals I’m throwing away and someone outside my house is starving? He wasn’t on drugs…he wasn’t acting crazy.  He looked like one of the many young people I’ve read about that have timed out of the foster system and have no one in life.

I doubt I’ll ever be homeless because I have hundreds of family members that could always take me in if misfortune really struck. But what about those that don’t have any family, have timed out of a messed-up system and are taking one moment at a time on the streets?

I actually applied for a lot of jobs to work in the homeless shelters and/or work on the educational programs for re-integration. I believe in divine intervention, and am super thankful for the career path I found, but sometimes I wonder what I could have done if I had gotten a job in a different system.

I hate feeling helpless when my heart is bleeding, but I’m channeling Lynyrd Skinner and saying, “All I can do is write about it,” even though my heart knows there’s more I could do.

I told Tyler to “Take care of himself” like that’s helpful…but at least we had a moment to connect and he got a cold drink. Here’s hoping he’s got a place to sleep tonight, but I have a feeling I’ll be pretty restless.