Homeless

That first year..

4:00am

Living on the streets in Montpelier.

Yesterday evening, through the open windows of Bethany Church, the strains of choir practice drifted and mingled with the rain. We stood under the trees, blessed.

The porch of the History Museum provides shelter and rocking chairs. Green-clad state employees stop by to pick up any garbage but they often find none. The young people sleeping on the porch at night pick up after themselves. I asked about the use of the electrical outlets, the staff replied that anyone is welcome to access them.

The Capitol Laundry is spotless and staffed full-time. The Thursday night attendant plays classical music.

The water in the library is scalding, good for making a cup of oatmeal.

If you walk down Bingham street after dark and feel someone staring intently from your right just stop until your eyes adjust to the shadows. Count them. Six pairs of curious eyes. Six flashing white tails.

The windows. Ornate Victorian frames embracing evening vignettes accompanied by instrumental practice. Cooking, reading, braiding, pacing with the sleep reluctant newborn, a living art gallery.

And now, it is 4:30 am. That means bobbing headlamps of the joggers, dodging around the old ladies walking.

If I can just find my shoes in the dark, herons await me along the banks of the Winooski River.