Box With A View

 

Chapter 1 - Box With A View

Excerpt from Diary of A Homeless Man Copyright ©2016 Bernie Schultz

I wake at 6 am, feeling only slightly rested. I didn't crawl into bed until almost 2 am. It was cold last night, maybe minus 4. My bed is cold. I am cold. I can see my breath. It reminds me of a time, in my first marriage, when the furnace oil ran out. Sleeping in the basement was like sleeping outside. But I am not in that marriage now, and I am not in that basement. I am in a sleeping bag, in a makeshift lean-to, under the bridge. It is December and I am cold.

I can hear traffic above me, people leaving their homes, heading off to their jobs and people who worked all night, heading home to their warm beds, unaware that I am here, under the bridge. I need to get up, get moving. I don't want to be seen.

I say a prayer of thanks to my creator for keeping me alive one more night and ask for the strength to get through today. I check my hands and my feet for signs of frostbite. Everything seems okay. I get out of the sleeping bag, crawl out of my shelter, stand up and walk around a bit. My knapsack was my pillow. I fish around inside the front pouch and find half a cigarette. A coffee would be nice, too, but maybe later.

I roll up my sleeping bag, tie the laces on it, put it in a garbage bag, and shove it far into the lean-to. I cover it with snow and branches, and then I start my day. It's only 6:30, too early for the AA club to be open, but the cleaner gets there at 7:00, and he will have coffee on. I usually give him a hand with his chores in exchange for a hot cup.

Along the way, I stop at a coffee shop and check the dumpster out back. There is a clear plastic garbage bag filled with half a dozen bagels. I take those and put them in my knapsack. At the clubhouse, the cleaner already has the coffee made. He sits outside, smoking, waiting for me. He gives me a coffee. I share my bagels with him and we make jokes about eating a continental breakfast.

Afterward, we clean up the clubhouse. It's not hard work and it's warm inside. The cleaner gives me a few smokes, we play a game of cards. At 9:00 I head down to the public library, to check the job boards. I used to work there, before everything changed. I hope to get a job there again, but I wonder how I will manage to get shaved and showered if I ever get an interview. At least I wouldn't have far to walk to get to work. That makes me chuckle and I know I'm not beat yet if I can still laugh.

At 11:30 I head over to the soup kitchen to stand in line for a hot meal. I always get there early so I can get in, get fed, then jog back down to the club for the noon meeting. Sometimes, they have donations of breads and pastries. I manage to score two loaves of day-old bread. Something to put between the slices would be nice but it's only Tuesday and the food bank isn't until Thursday.

The meeting topic is gratitude. I share that I am grateful to be sober and alive so that I can face the challenges of day to day life. They know I'm struggling but they don't know I'm sleeping under the bridge. I don't tell anyone. It's only been a few weeks since I stopped drinking and although I am hopeful this time, I still am weighed down by pride. I think a few know what's going on, because they have been where I've been.

The meeting ends at 1:00. I stay to help them clean up. It's warm here and there's leftover coffee and donuts. By 2:00 I am back on the street. I panhandle for a bit, make a few dollars. I use it to buy a package of mock chicken at the store. Sandwiches for supper is better than no supper at all.

I wander the streets until 6:00 then I head over to the club. There's a meeting at 7:30 so I help them set that up and in return I get a hot coffee to go with my sandwiches. The meeting gets over around nine, cleanup takes until 9:30.

I managed to save two dollars from my afternoon of panhandling so I head over the coffee shop to see about getting a bowl of soup and a small coffee. I eat and drink slowly.

A few AA members are there and we chit chat. One of them asks me where I'm living these days. For a moment, I think about lying again. And then I remember I'm supposed to be honest. Under the bridge I say. He lets me crash on his sofa that night.

When I wake up on Wednesday, I'm not cold. For that I am grateful.