Girl

San Francisco

23 September, 2014

It was almost 2 in the afternoon in San Francisco. I had just finished a  heavy meal. I had had an "elegant sufficiency," as my Aunt Anna would have said. 

It was a beautiful day! The skies were clear, it was 70°, and a light breeze was blowing from off the bay. 

 The sun was high in the sky, bathing the Victorian buildings in a yellow-white glow.

I was tired, but I needed to walk a bit, and it being so fine outside, I decided to go up and down the streets of the neighborhood. Here and there I'd see a building that particularly struck my fancy, and I took several pictures. 

Fatigue and a lack of sleep was catching up with me, so I headed back to my hotel. I was very happy. 

I was not prepared for what I saw next: in an alcove just off the sidewalk, I caught sight of a homeless person. 

Now, in San Francisco this is unfortunately an all too common sight. If you can walk three blocks in certain areas if this city without being panhandled at LEAST once, I'd say you won.

It was different this time. This was

not some old junkie or wino sleeping it off or trying to bum a cigarette or a dollar for more wine. 

My eyes beheld a young woman - in her twenties. A girl. 

She was ragged as any homeless person out there. She was sitting and not begging. Perhaps she was beyond that. 

She had a young face, yet the face of someone who was more than defeated. She held her head in her hands, and I could not tell if she was sleeping, resting, thinking, or, God forbid, she was dead!!

She sat there on a blanket, surrounded by junk and filth. Next to her was a large dog, who, quite obviously was her only friend. 

A feeling of anguish overcame me. She could have been my daughter!! She certainly was SOMEONE's daughter…

What was her story? Why was she there, in that condition? What horrible set of circumstances led her to sit in rags on the sidewalk - covering her eyes on a beautiful day like today??

I wanted to do something to help her, but there were so very many reasons why that wasn't such a good idea. So I walked on, and she remained sitting there, alone - except for one final faithful companion who would be true to her until the end. Dogs are not quick to judge.

Seeing the flotsam and jetsam of our society as often as I do, it is easy to take them for part of the scenery. It is hard to help someone when you don't what each one needs. 

Maybe they are beyond help. Maybe they just don't want hope. Maybe they don't know how to help themselves. 

Maybe they just want to be left alone. 

I feel so powerless. What would I do if this were MY daughter? 

She's SOMEBODY's daughter!

Yet there she languishes, alone with her pain, while countless people pass her by and don't even see her, and while I go back to my warm bed to sleep.