I went to Uraeus' game last night. It was a close game but they lost. Anyway, the conversation between us on the ride home was pleasant, funny and enjoyable. I have told you how much I love watching him grow up and seeing the man he is becoming. Valerie said to me before that she wanted to rear children whom she would want to be friends with later. Well, I have taken that statement on as my own and am loving the friendship I get to share with Uraeus. Though our relationship is not all friendship. We have our days, you know.
Today though, and this is not about Uraeus, I went to return a rental car on the road that the two of you walk on when you are here. Except the car place is at the opposite end near Aunt M's home. The driver was not available to give me a ride to my mother's house for another thirty minutes so I decided to just walk. Well, I was walking east over that bridge and from the street all you can really see are trees and more trees. But then you are driving and so you don't look for more than that. But if you are walking, as I was today, or if you are looking for more, then you will find it. There are tents. Several of them. Old and dirty, cloth and card board tents. It's like a little village down there. I didn't go down there. I just looked. Above one tent there was a rope that was connected to a tree like a clothes line and a jacket on a hanger was hung on that line. That's a story. I don't know the story. But it is such a story.
I wonder about the village. What about now? It's almost 10pm, have the dwellers returned to their homes? Do they call themselves homeless? I wonder about their safety. Perhaps the people they need protection from is us. Perhaps. Who sets the rules? What rules could there be? I don't know. I always have questions. Everything sparks my curiosity. Everything is always a story.
Sending you love,
Jaha
Black ass poems. Black ass stories. Black ass art. Black ass life. Black ass love. Black ass hate. Black ass parenting. Black ass depression. Black ass mania. And other stuff too.
I know. There is always a story. These past 2 weeks I have taken to living on the streets of Las Vegas, just to learn them and to satisfy a curiosity I've had ever since moving here .The opportunity arose to do it so here I am, on my laptop in the lobby of the Union Plaza hotel, using their internet access. In those 2 weeks I spent 3 nights sleeping in a bed at a Catholic Charities facility, where I also ate 3 or 4 meals during the 2 weeks. Why am I so fascinated by the street lifestyle I experienced in Atlantic City, and now Las Vegas? The stories, the untold unheard stories behind the individuals who are facing every single day and every single night struggling with the harsh reality of their existence....and doing it with a sense of dignity and acceptance....
ReplyDeleteThere is the world where boys grow up to be friends and uncles (brother's-in-law) grow up to be fascinated with the streets and the women who love them want their stories...
ReplyDelete