The Stranger

What used to be described as a hobo, a bum, a vagabond, or a tramp; I see a young man dressed in a heavy winter coat carrying a backpack, walking aimlessly through the neighborhood.

It is not a frightening sight, just a curious experience.

As I pass, he sits on the curb, seemingly enjoying a lunch in the sunshine on this cold winter day. His coat is open and his shirt unbuttoned soaking in the warmth of the sunshine. He seems unaware of my presence or no caring that I have invaded his space of contentment.

He may be a student who has stopped on the way to school for refreshment. He could be a homeless wanderer who, as so many others, path their step one at a time. He could live in the neighborhood, unknown to me, exploring the day as I am on wheels.

His appearance is not alarming, almost clean cut and healthy. I look down at my own apparel, realizing what I wear for comfort may appear to others as disheveled. Perhaps we follow a similar path?

This encounter brings back memories of clean cut presentations with sharply pressed tux and witty conversation. The effort to conform to a class of people who were neither engaging nor interesting in their behavior, ideas, or existence only proved to bore me.

Without fear of evaluation, rejection, or reprisal; some are honest and those interactions are rare and valued.

I did not see the stranger today, but wish him well in his adventure and hope him a safe journey.