Dear Anonymous,
Tyler, arrived this morning just a few minutes later than most. He was happy to receive some socks. And a coffee card. But I had run out of damn coffee cake. And that always puts a hairline fracture on my heart.
But I had a small little notebook he had asked for.
The need is great and will never be filled. There is a man here this morning who is very quiet and who I have seen for months. This morning he is exasperated. Uncharacteristically flustered. He tells me all his belongings were stolen, the latest victim of theft on the street. Backpack, sleeping bags, coleman stoves, all his earthly belongings. POOF. Gone.
He takes a pair of very worn sneakers and replaces his worn ankle high shoes with them, reusing the shoe laces from his old pair.
Before I leave he walks over calmly holding those old battered shoes as if he were displaying new Gucci Loafers, one hand holding the pair beneath the soles and one hand grasping the heel end of the pair with his forefingers.
He asks quietly, 'Maybe you can pass these along? '
And I will. And he walks away, only to turn after a few steps and offer, 'Thank you.'.