The wheels of the chair were sinking in the sandy soil. It had been raining every day lately, but this didn't stop us from venturing into the thicket to see for ourselves our friend's "home". Although, it had been several years since he had been there. I just had to see it with my own eyes. Writing about the plight of the homeless is something that I've been writing about for close to a year now. Where and what did people use to help survive the bitter cold, the harsh winds and the merciless seasonal elements when winter sets in? Only an inquisitive writer would need to see for herself and NOTHING was going to stop me, even if I had to get there the hard way.
The day we choose to go was nothing like the winter that our friend had endured. It was humid, the air thick as the brush and the bugs were intense. We parked the car and unloaded the manual chair so that we could better maneuver whatever we might have to go over, around, or through. After going around a cement barricade, we followed a service road next to a railroad track. Why on earth did I wait this long to let my adventurous nature come through? Even though my friend led the way, I felt as if I was going to see something that I probably would not be able to see, left to my own capabilities.
It was still and definitely serene. "Quiet neighbors," I said. Due to the fact that a cemetery was nearby, I thought it would have been very quiet, but then again I was naive to the fact that cemeteries are used by different types of people for different reasons. I later discovered that "Devil Worshipers" frequent them. I know nothing about them, so that won't be discussed here.
As we passed under a viaduct, there was graffiti covering the structure that held up the road above us. Again, I knew that the graffiti meant something to someone. It was all Greek to me! Wow, I felt as if I were in the movies. We took the push chair so that we could get places where the motorized chair could not go. "It's down here", said Steven as he led the way. We seemed to walk forever and the chair was hard to push in the sandy soil. "Wait, I think we must have missed the small path", Steve said. "Either that or it has grown over since the last time I've been here." "When was that?" I asked. "Oh, maybe four years now.", Steve replied. "Wait here, I'll backtrack. I'll let you know when I find it. It's here somewhere." Steve hadn't gone far off the service road when we heard him holler. "I found it. It's over here."
Once we went in off the path about 50 feet or so, we found a metal structure about 15 feet by 12 feet which we later found out had been a routing office. It had no inside walls, but was a gutted, frame of a building that had obviously been ravaged by a fire. It had a door on each side of it and window openings. I could imagine that in the winter, it would be a little better than nothing. I could almost feel the wind blow through there with vigor as it howled mercilessly on my friend. "Welcome to my place.", he chided as he held the door open for us. Steve had carried my walker so that I could walk around once we got there. "Steven, you stayed here in the dead of winter?, I asked. "Yep, for about three months. Then the police made me move." I looked around and imagined what it may have been like. The tile flooring was cold and worn, the walls had big gaps in them where the walls met the floor. Their was no electricity nor running water. "I use to light a votive candle at night to keep warm and I swept the floor where I use to lay with the blankets I had." I imagined what it would be like to have no where to call home or even worse, to have no one to miss you if you were to freeze to death.
I could see that this was bringing memories back for my friend. He made the statement that he felt as if he were home. I suggested with that that we should go home. As we made our way back, we decided to take a short cut. It was a little precarious, but as always Steve's hand was there for support. As we made our way, a giant (little), green frog crossed our path. "Oh, yuck, look at that giant green thing! Get him, Steve! Don't let him jump on my leg!" It's only a little green frog, silly! Let's go home nature girl!
The day we choose to go was nothing like the winter that our friend had endured. It was humid, the air thick as the brush and the bugs were intense. We parked the car and unloaded the manual chair so that we could better maneuver whatever we might have to go over, around, or through. After going around a cement barricade, we followed a service road next to a railroad track. Why on earth did I wait this long to let my adventurous nature come through? Even though my friend led the way, I felt as if I was going to see something that I probably would not be able to see, left to my own capabilities.
It was still and definitely serene. "Quiet neighbors," I said. Due to the fact that a cemetery was nearby, I thought it would have been very quiet, but then again I was naive to the fact that cemeteries are used by different types of people for different reasons. I later discovered that "Devil Worshipers" frequent them. I know nothing about them, so that won't be discussed here.
As we passed under a viaduct, there was graffiti covering the structure that held up the road above us. Again, I knew that the graffiti meant something to someone. It was all Greek to me! Wow, I felt as if I were in the movies. We took the push chair so that we could get places where the motorized chair could not go. "It's down here", said Steven as he led the way. We seemed to walk forever and the chair was hard to push in the sandy soil. "Wait, I think we must have missed the small path", Steve said. "Either that or it has grown over since the last time I've been here." "When was that?" I asked. "Oh, maybe four years now.", Steve replied. "Wait here, I'll backtrack. I'll let you know when I find it. It's here somewhere." Steve hadn't gone far off the service road when we heard him holler. "I found it. It's over here."
Once we went in off the path about 50 feet or so, we found a metal structure about 15 feet by 12 feet which we later found out had been a routing office. It had no inside walls, but was a gutted, frame of a building that had obviously been ravaged by a fire. It had a door on each side of it and window openings. I could imagine that in the winter, it would be a little better than nothing. I could almost feel the wind blow through there with vigor as it howled mercilessly on my friend. "Welcome to my place.", he chided as he held the door open for us. Steve had carried my walker so that I could walk around once we got there. "Steven, you stayed here in the dead of winter?, I asked. "Yep, for about three months. Then the police made me move." I looked around and imagined what it may have been like. The tile flooring was cold and worn, the walls had big gaps in them where the walls met the floor. Their was no electricity nor running water. "I use to light a votive candle at night to keep warm and I swept the floor where I use to lay with the blankets I had." I imagined what it would be like to have no where to call home or even worse, to have no one to miss you if you were to freeze to death.
I could see that this was bringing memories back for my friend. He made the statement that he felt as if he were home. I suggested with that that we should go home. As we made our way back, we decided to take a short cut. It was a little precarious, but as always Steve's hand was there for support. As we made our way, a giant (little), green frog crossed our path. "Oh, yuck, look at that giant green thing! Get him, Steve! Don't let him jump on my leg!" It's only a little green frog, silly! Let's go home nature girl!
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