From across Broadway I saw the wheelchair and immediately knew it was him. It was Thom whom I'd met last June on the walking bridge. A homeless man with a brain stem injury from the Korean war. I left my family in Jack's BBQ to double back and see him again. He was guzzeling beer from a cup and looked much rougher than the last time I saw him but his crystal blue eyes were still beautiful. He had lost more teeth and his speech unintelligible ( probably more from being drunk than anything) but I told him I knew him. I'm positive he doesn't remember but I reminded him that I took his picture and that it was my all time favorite. Just like last time, he hugged me and took my hand. Again, he was very dirty. I told him how beautiful he was to me and that I thought of him often. Can positive words help even if you hear them only once a year? Like I said, he was drunk and won't remember the last 3 hours for all I know but I had to say it and I'm glad I did. My heart just kind of gushes when I see him and I don't know why.
And he is someone's child. Thom was once a mother's shining star. He once had parents that I hope cared for him and tucked in a cozy bed at night. Those sweet memories may be haunting him, who knows?
Maybe he is another kind of angel in my midst. I don't get to keep this one but he is there as a reminder that the world is cruel and to have compassion, not pity, for all. His wings are gray, frayed and hidden under his tattered shirt. I have this compelling want to try to fix him. Bring him home, clean him up, feed him, get him help. But is he supposed to be fixed? What is his destiny? I have no idea. I just hate that he suffers.
I took Thom's picture again and his eyes will be the focus; I can see the image before I've even had it developed.
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