Dear Anonymous,
March can be cruel in Maine. A warm day and we're all seduced with the idea of spring and the next day it's bitter cold. Nothing new about this but it feels mean spirited on the street.
Fleece lined pants were a hit as were lined jackets and an extra layer of chamois or flannel shirts.
'May I photograph you this morning?' and he responds by taking his sunglasses of and smiling.
A woman, not well dressed for the cold, is wandering up and down the street screaming a name over and over. Like one might call a lost dog. Forlorn. Desperate. Urgent. Like a foghorn. Something lost. Something in the dark.
A young man arrives with a pair of beautiful Nike shoes in hand. They are in great condition. Bright orange and yellow. They look like candy corn against the relative blue grey of the street. They sparkle. He looks at me and says, 'I'm gonna' find someone to give them to.'
I respond.
'I'm sure you'll make someone's day when you do that.'
He says,
'Like you do for us .'
I respond 'There's no better feeling.'
I only include this as a way to thank YOU.
Thank you Dear Anonymous. His response to me is for ALL of YOU.
Coffee cards. Socks. A clean t-shirt. Briefs and off he goes.
I notice as he says goodbye, under the hood of his jacket a hand knit hat I recognize from one of you. The muted gray blue yarn a perfect counterpoise to his clear, light blue eyes.
Thank you Dear Anonymous. Profoundly.