by Jon Ferguson

Created on: December 08, 2011   Last Updated: April 23, 2012

In the shadows a pile of refuse filled the park bench.  A ten speed bicycle with garbage bags tied to the handlebars stood nearby on its kickstand.  This is a dead giveaway that a homeless person is in the vicinity.  I voiced "hello, is anybody home?"  To the homeless a shadowy park bench behind an office building might be considered home for the night. 

 I heard a mutter from the trash bags on the bench.  I looked closer and saw a pair of human eyes peering at me from the pile.  I asked the man if he was hungry and he nodded slowly.  He sat up slowly coming out of the pile much like a hermit crab eases out of his shell sensing danger with his antennae.  I never found out the man's name because he never said anything to me.  I have always thought of him since that first night as Crab. 

 I rummaged through my pack and pulled out a package that my wife had made earlier that night.  It consisted of what we in the urban world might call junk food.  Protein bars and fattening snacks with lots of calories.  Hi nutrient breakfast cereal, water bottles, granola bars, peanut butter crackers, etc.  My wife had also been kind enough to put some basic toiletry items in there, a Bic razor, soap, and toothpaste.

 I asked him if he knew where I might find other homeless folks he turned his head slowly as if the act of communicating was something long forgotten. He grimaced and withdrew back into his garbage shell for the night.

Learn more about this author, Jon Ferguson.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.