Dear Anonymous,
He is waiting. Trying to scrape together bus money to get to South Portland to the methadone clinic. He describes his journey of receiving housing after 4 years on the bricks.
'It was so weird having a place. So different from anything I was used to. It changed everything. All my daily routines were upended....what I did, who I saw...it all changed. Took me three months before I'd even sleep there. And then I'd let people shower there or use the kitchen and it was so much that I didn't even want to go home anymore. I didn't wanna paint no more. I got back into drugs. I withdrew from my relationships with the people that matter in my life. All my money out the door on drugs. Now I'm way behind and I could lose it all. But I'm at the clinic again, and I'm gettin' dosed and I'm gonna find my way outta this. I even stopped giving out socks and stuff on the street and that's the thing that had given me my high. Without that I can't find my way. Nobody gets it but I get my high from delivering these things to my street family...'
I think I get it.
We load up a bag of socks, and fleece, a pair of boots.
Thank you Dear Anonymous, this is how this all started a year ago.
One man looking to be heard. And seen. And searching for the daily redemption of giving back.