Just enough snow falling this morning to make the sidewalks slick, the skies are gray and pressing down.
I’m struck by the holiday music coming from the bell-ringers above – as I’m coming up the train station stairs, juxtaposed against the homeless man in shorts sprawled at the bottom. I wonder whether he hears the music, and if he does – does it make him sad? Angry? Wishful for another, earlier time?
Or does it go unheard, ignored as more noise intruding from a mad and insulting world?
I brush by, up the stairs, just another person pulling up a hood against the snow and the view. Entering a river of people moving towards their daily experience, but leaving some behind.
We are all humans. We all had mothers or fathers or holidays once.
I hope tomorrow is a better day for him.