I approached the park that I go to every lunch hour to escape from work. I pull up the car to see a man with a trolley full of belongings. At first I can’t tell if the man is homeless. He pulls out a knit throw and sits on the park bench. It is now I realise. As I walk the usual path leading down to the area I sit, I smile at him and ask him how he is going. “I’m really tired”, he responds. I ask him why he’s tired, equally cautious and curious. He explains that he hadn’t slept in days. I believed him. He slumps, exhausted looking at his feet. Dissatisfied with that being the completion of our conversation, I proceed to ask if he was from around here. He said he used to live in Chermside but originally came from up north. “What did you used to do there?” He informs me that he was a tree lopper before moving here. Assessing his ability to hold conversation I approach the bench. Once prompted he continues, stating last night he slept in the park next to the Goodlife gym and Officeworks.
I ask if he has eaten anything, seeing a box of half old vegetables sitting in the trolley behind him. He says he had something small a little earlier. He explains that he must have given some ladies near the other park a fright, as cop cars followed to have a chat to him. They said someone would come to meet him. No one did.
However a food van did come and gave him a half box of some old carrots, half cracked dozen of eggs and some other aged fruit/vegies. I glance at the trolley curious as to how this man was supposed to prepare these ingredients into a meal. I ask if he would like some more food, not wanting to insinuate any form of assumptions. He says he would appreciate it if he could save it for later. I hand him my Tupperware container of heated lunch with knife and fork sitting on top as he places it in his trolley. He makes a comment about how gross the water is from the drinking bubblers in the area. I reach into my handbag and hand him what’s left in my water bottle, wishing I had filled it like I usually do.
I asked him where he was going to sleep tonight. His arm gestures towards the tired bench. I ask how long he has been doing this for, he explains since 2008… “Is there any shelters that maybe you could head to instead?” He admits they’re all in the city and he hasn’t got the money nor the means to walk there. I look down at his bare, cracked feet. I pause. Unsure how to respond.
We exchange names. His name is Aaron. It was then he said something that made my heart sink. He said appreciatively, “thank you for actually talking to me Kaitlyn”. And just like that, all I could picture was the hundreds of pacing legs and neglectful, avoiding glances Aaron must have come to pass in his time.
My heard breaks a little.
I had no idea the
choices this man had made to get to this point. Or even the choices he would
continue to make. I had no idea the
route his life had taken to get here. But in this moment I didn’t care. Because
Aaron not once asked me for anything. He didn’t ask for money. Or smokes. He
didn’t even ask for food. He just wanted to be acknowledged. To feel some kind
of human connection. Someone to acknowledge his place in this world and to hear
the voice of someone other than those in his head. Sleep deprivation and hunger
will lead anyone to a point of unrecognition.
I tell him I would be back in just a second. I quickly return to my car mustering everything I can gather I feel might have some kind of value. I grab my Nike gym duffel, a towel, pair of thongs, a black cap and my GO/transport card. I hand them to him. “Will you get any use of these”? He smiles and agrees. I ask if he has anyone to call, in that moment considering the array of people in my own life that I would call. He shakes his head.
My heart breaks a little more.
I offer a hand to pack up his things and to get him an Uber to get him to the nearest train station, wanting to take him personally however conscious of the time left of my lunch break. We packed up his very few belongings. A dirty blush couch cushion, old knit throw and tattered single sleeping bag.
As I let him know the Uber is around the corner, we walk closer to the road. “Cute little car you have”, he remarks. “Thank you, it gets the job done,” I responded, feeling guilty the second the words left my mouth. Amanda, the driver, pulls up giving us a half agreeing smile. I could tell she knew the situation and I was so relieved to see her welcome as we open the doors of the swift. I help load his bags into the car. I smile and hug Aaron wishing him all the best. Waving as they take off it was a very surreal feeling knowing in this moment I wouldn’t see him again. Nor know where his life would lead.
I sit back in my car and tears begin to well in my eyes. What had I done to deserve all the privilege I have in my life? I don’t even mean in comparison to Aaron. Because I don’t know his story. I think to all those who are living this way. All those whose paths I have crossed on the streets and benches of my travels. All the beggers. All the children. And I look at all the beauty, grace and love I have in my life. And I have no idea how I got so blessed.
So why am I even telling you all this? To be honest I questioned whether I even should. Questioning whether it would be perceived in the light it was originally intended. But then a girlfriend at work gave me the compliment-intended solely as a compliment-that I don’t look like someone that would do something like that. And then it dawned on me that sharing it was exactly what I needed to do.
Honestly, someone telling me that they’re surprised by an aspect of who I am is one of the biggest compliments I can receive. Because it means I made them question why they thought/assumed what they did, just from knowing my story. And if I can get those around me, at the grass roots level of life, to question why they think what they do, then I can encourage them to create a necessary dialogue and shift their perspective to that of a positive one.
I think so many of us feel that unless we make some kind of grand gesture like: moving overseas to volunteer; adoption; creating a non-profit or donating all our financial wealth, that we feel like we can’t possibly make any kind of positive contribution. But if my years of education, both academic and worldly, has reinforced anything it’s that social change is developed from the ground up. The grass roots! And it starts with hearing each other’s stories and bridging the gap to human connection. So that is exactly why I have decided to share this.
We alone have so much privilege and so much power. We all have some kind of resource we can spare. Whether you’re willing to admit it to yourself or not. This platform is just another of my resources.
So go out of your way to do something with yours. – Pay for someone’s meal, lay by… – Volunteer some time at a non-profit – Donate items to charity – Hold the door for someone – Hold off on writing that nasty complaint – because the second you do its no longer a reflection of what you’re complaining about! – Leave a nice note on someone’s windscreen
Most importantly…..just talk to others! Make a connection! Want to learn their story.
I am so grateful to have met Aaron. Because he was the necessary check in with my soul of the type of person I want to be. The continuity of the pen in the development of character in my own story.
Until next time. Much love & light.
All photos taken on: Canon 70D & Iphone 7+ #1 – Lake Bled, Slovenia. #2- Ljubljana, Slovenia. #3- Munich, Germany. #4- Mostar, Bosnia & Herzegovina. #5- Sarajevo, Bosnia & Herzegovina. #6- Boracay Island, Philippines. #7- Brancaster, England #8- Sarajevo, Bosnia & Herzegovina. #9- Santa Monica Pier, California USA.
