HUNKERED DOWN

       Word has it that we'll have plunging temperatures all day and into the night, to go with the rain and possible snow. Residents at the shelter don't need to hear the forecast; their relationship with the weather is much more intimate than mine—with my nice house, warm car, and the freedom to go as I please. Just saying: they really get restless when they are housebound. I don't know how their weekdays are, but weekends must surely be trying. It's a wonder more of them don't go to church just to get out!
        When Gate Keeper let me in, he asked how I was. I said, in a very low voice, "I have a day job and a nice home—got nothing to complain about. You?"

       "Me too!" he smiled.

      A fellow who once lived at the shelter came to mop the floors for Joey. He does that on occasion. Joey said that man is the only one who "gives back," launching into a long diatribe about how people use the shelter but never give back… sounded a lot like Miss Lillian. Seems to me that if they go out into the world and help somebody else avoid a shelter, they've paid it forward… It's not my place to say. I did overhear the fellow saying that his family had driven him slap up the wall this morning, and he had to get out of the house! So… maybe it was a fair trade that he had someplace to go and something to do with his irritation.
       Joey and I served exactly what we had planned last week, and more! I had to cut up some potatoes (forgot my tools), and invent the soup from a sad mystery box, but it was all good, and there was no grease in the food. When lunch was over, we got more compliments than I can recall for a meal—pre-packaged chicken salad, canned fruit, biscuits, tossed salad, and homemade vegetable soup. Nobody complained.
       Digging through the big fridge for soup makings was eye-opening (or closing, depending on your preference). One canister had a 1/2-inch-thick slab of solid FAT on top. Underneath was that gelatin stuff you get when you chill the drippings from a roast or a chicken. It smelled like chicken. We threw it out. Other canisters had corn (one partially frozen, dark & tough; the other foul-smelling). We threw those out. Another canister had what appeared to be tomato sauce with green peppers. No sale. Last, and most hopefully was a canister of SOUP, but DANG: It was the soup I made LAST WEEK (with milk). "Joey! This is over a week old and was made with milk!" Now that I think about it, that was the gallon of milk that Miss Lillian had written "use now" on. It expired a couple of days before last Sunday. Yes, we threw that out too. Today's soup was made from fresh ingredients—by the grace of God.
       So... a couple of the pre-release fellows seem to have adopted me. I get special recognition from them, they call my name often, and they want to chat. These guys could be my children. Maybe they miss their moms. One of them was waylaying me when our Angel came in, and I nearly missed the opportunity to ask him how he's doing. He said it's a wonderful day. He smiled. The lost look he had last week wasn't with him today.
       Eternally Angry Pre-release Woman was quiet. She took her food and ate peacefully. She did come to the counter to haggle with Joey about the clock, when she was wanting to stay longer than allowed. She said the dining room clock is right and the kitchen clock is wrong; ergo, Joey should allow her to stay a few more minutes. She lost.
       Later, Gate Keeper spent some time with me. He's lost 6 pounds and wanted praise for that. I complied. Then he seemed to want some sympathy about the "big belly/skinny legs" thing, but I had to remind him that he was preaching to the choir and age was upon us. Our conversation turned to children and grandchildren. We do think alike.
       Among our homeless, we had a few special orders. One wanted only a bowl of fruit. Her sickly feeling was palpable. Another just wanted chicken salad and a biscuit. Another just a bowl of soup. They are so malnourished, spiritually and physically—just makes me sad.
     Our drug-deprived shaky kid is morphing into a really cute little guy with a sense of humor and a happy face. I LOVE watching them change. Just when I think I've missed him, he turns up at the coffee pot, asking us to make more. Coffee is a good thing.
       And speaking of change… Mr. Huggy came to the kitchen today! I hadn't seen him in weeks, as you know. He sidled up to me as I said hello. He put one arm around my shoulders and gave me a very lightweight greeting, compared to olden times. Oh, to be a fly on the wall…
       A woman was engaging Gate Keeper at his window when I left. "Bye, Sugar!" I called to him.
      "Bye, Baby," the woman called back. She wasn't happy; she wasn't happy; she wasn't happy.
       Oddly, there wasn't a crowd in the foyer, and a few folks were even hunkered down outside for a smoke when I left. Now that I think about it, they were the ones who brought a smothering stench of cigarette smoke to lunch with them!
       I'm going to exhale.
       Peace.