Dear Anonymous,
It's hovering at zero degrees and my hands are pounding with pain. And all around me are smiles like this one from Charles. The whiskers around his mouth all frozen. Robin Lynn Herrick has arrived with a generous car load of resources at 6 AM on a Sunday morning and she is beaming and chatting with the guys. The guys out here who have been walking the streets since midnight are smiling. Concerned about my hands. And read that again. They are worried about MY hands. Good fckn' grief...they are out in this with little reprieve and I can barely tolerate it for moments at a time.
These coffee cards are divine. Warmth in the hand. Warmth in the belly. For at least a moment. Thick socks. A piece of coffee cake and a muffin. A new deodorant stick or a toothbrush. Little tiny graces. How often do they say 'This is a life saver.'? They say it often. Thank you Dear Anonymous.
Coffee cards tumble out over socks over a pair of warm pants or an extra layer. A hoodie. A jacket. The currency of connection.