Toys and Guilt

This will be a quick one, March has been a busy month. Ken and I are actively viewing 2 bedroom apartments, and we're both still hoping we'll find something we both love. So far there is always one thing missing. The place we saw today was GORGEOUS but had a kitchen that Junior and I couldn't fit into at the same time.

I got an iPhone. I'm pretty happy with my purchase, it's a lot of fun, works well, and it's just plain cool.

But what I've been thinking about today most of all is how every day last fall, and at the start of winter, I would cut through one of the side streets between Metcalfe and O'Connor on my way to work, on Nepean St. And every morning there was a woman sitting there in her car. Her seats were piled high with what could only be all of her worldy possessions. I'm not usually observant enough to realize what I'm looking at, but it struck me especially hard because I had just seen a tv special about a regular woman who had a series of things happen to her and she ended up living out of her car, struggling every day to get by. The t.v. character was in denial about it as it happened to her, because it all happened so quickly and she didn't seem to see the bigger picture. It just happened that she couldn't pay rent and her things were kicked out with her so because she couldn't find a place she could afford, she piled things into her car and lived there. And it happened again and then again.

I guess the fact that this women on Nepean had a car means to me that she had the means to have the car, and is stuck between having a home and being on the street. Like it's something that must have happened somewhat recently. And every day as I passed her, I tried to convince myself that she was okay and that she was looking after herself. But as I would walk past the car, I would try to figure out what I could do to help. Do I help? Do I say something? Would it embarrass her? Is the situation different than I imagine it to be, is it something I haven't thought of? But then I would reach the end of the block and realize there was nothing I could do, what could I do. And so every day I would be caught in this turmoil on Nepean Street, the same thing over and over, never varying. As it got colder out this winter, I didn't see her again. Gradually I forgot about it and because the side streets got heavy with snow and too icy to navigate, I had to take the main streets to work. But today I cut down Nepean again and found myself looking for her. I don't know if she's doing better, or doing worse, or has found a new street with her car and her back seat piled high with clothes. But I thought about her all morning and had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, about what she must go through every day.