the next in line
As I approach my final days in Fresno I want to look back, and say
that I won’t miss the place.
I’ve been here for nearly a year now, from January to late
November, and I shall be leaving in early December.
As I am one who enjoys the pleasures of reclusive anonymity, I have
disappeared nicely among the useless, and desolate of the city’s
homeless. I am not special among those with little hope. I am not
anyone at all, I am just the next in line.
Being homeless, I saw the rain only once this year. It was a light
rain; the weather has been most kind to me.
Approaching that time of year set aside for giving thanks, I’ll soon
pause for a moment, and reflect upon those things I am grateful for
which I may overlook, or miss as I walk the railroad yards, the dead-end alleys, or scuffle up the street to grab a meal at the
homeless shelter.
Will I miss Fresno? It has been where I have painted a life this year. The painting is finished; the year is nearly over.
That’s all.
- -
Okay,
Father Luke
