by Frank Butry

Created on: February 04, 2010   Last Updated: August 21, 2011

The Empty Life Chapter One

The woman's voice awakens you from alight sleep, a sleep you needed after a five mile walk. Your hear your name announced, like cattle you are herded into another line, endless lines always forming to get whatever relief you are seeking. In my case, it was a bed and shower. Just some sleep and a clean body, perhaps a clean shirt as well. I had hit rock bottom, out of work, out of money, no where to turn but the local homeless shelter. Like the song from the great depression of the 1930's, once I built a railroad, had money, now I have none. But I needed more than a dime. I needed something.

In front of the intake desk, looked down upon by the people who process you, your name, what happened and any identification you have to prove who you are. The guy in front of you, who looks like a walking bag of rags, smelling like oil and piss, talking to himself about something only he could understand, seems to have been through all this before, nodding his head, signing his name, and making promises to the staff. Then its my turn to go forward, to talk to a staff  member not older than my own kids, who speaks to you as if you are mentally impaired. I answer the questions, show my drivers license, and are given a sheet so thin it looks like cheese cloth, tagged with a number, which is your new bed number, and I stumble into the total unknown. But for now, I don't care, I can sleep, somewhat. And maybe shower come the morning.

At exactly five thirty in the morning, someone with a voice like a mule in heat barks at all of us, to wake up and get out, to leave, and remember to hand in your sheets, pick up your belongings, and make sure you reserve your bed for the coming night. I awoke to this , did as I was told, and went into the daylight, standing there and letting my mind wander, when it hits you hard, the realization you have nothing to do, nowhere to go, and nobody gives a damn about you or your problems.

I don't have many belongings to speak of, maybe a book and a knapsack, with my wallet so short of anything  resembling money. Right now what I need is coffee and a smoke, its the only thing on my mind. Not knowing what to do, I follow the crowd into the hot morning sun, the nicotine squeezing my senses, telling me to get a cigarette, and my stomach gently reminding me to eat anything. Cripes, eating. I have not ate for two days, and I wonder when I will taste food again. So I ask, anybody who ,looks normal, who looks like they can give me a straight answer, where can I eat, and hopefully get some damn coffee.

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