Bouquet and Sunset

Lonely as a sentinel it stood, atop a weathered post overlooking the Pacific Ocean but guarding nothing.   A small, clear, plastic bottle with a narrow white band near the opening was the placeholder for an array of weeds and dainty, purple flowers soaking in life-sustaining water. 

A cool breeze skimmed the surface of the ocean nearby, racing up the bluff and fluttering the small delicate petals of the Calandrinia and waving the Foxtail which were arranged in the no-label bottle.  And in the background, out over the horizon the yellow paintball of a setting sun seemed to touch the blades of the Foxtail on its way to nightfall.

Remember back when you were a child and you spotted a blooming weed (maybe a dandelion or Yellow Woodsorrel mixed among clover) and you lovingly plucked it from the earth and with pride took it home to your mother.  She was so excited to receive the gift and always found a container, maybe a widemouthed Mason jar or a favorite cup, and carefully arranged the weed bouquet till it wilted away.  Both of you were happy!

And here, a primitive bouquet of wildflowers, so to speak waited.  But how did it get there?  Who carefully plucked this bouquet, found the small plastic bottle, filled it with water, and carefully arranged the bunch?  Was it a present for a lover?  Was it a gift from a child?  Was it in remembrance of a friend? Or just maybe it was to honor the day and add to the mystery of the disappearing sun. 

But it was left in a lonely place, not seen by many.  Maybe that was the plan, after all.  A quiet and peaceful offering.  Or maybe because it was a bouquet of quickly plucked flowers and weeds it did not make the cut for the journey home.  For whatever the reason it was left, other than prompting dreamy speculation, it brought me a moment of pleasure to contemplate its beauty being kissed by the setting sun.

 

Lonely and Homeless

“Lonely, I'm Mr. Lonely
I have nobody for my own
Oh, I'm so lonely…..”

That song came to mind as I watched “Birdman,” a homeless person in the community lean on the cold rail near the beach and stare out over the Pacific Ocean at a recent sunset before the local police began giving tickets for watching it from your car!  How many sunsets has “Birdman” seen over his lifetime as he hangs around familiar territory?  What was it in his life that led to his predicament?  Mental illness?  Addiction?  Adjustment disorders?

He pointed out the rocks below and reminisced that he began sleeping on them at nights when he was sixteen years old.  He felt safe down there, he said.  But on this night, he was hoping for a motel room which the town was giving to some of the community homeless due to the spread of the COVID19.  He wasn’t sure he would qualify. He could no longer get down to the beach… it was closed.

Homelessness and loneliness go together.  His challenge is similar to ours:  he worries about food, clothing and shelter.  But his worry – and those like him – is daily.  Most of us are holding in place, hunkered down but with food, clean clothing and shelter.  That may change as the government inflicted shutdown continues and people lose their jobs and livelihoods. 

He doesn’t work so the lay-offs and shuttered businesses aren’t his concern.  Sort of.  But still, it is a dilemma because no one is on the streets to give him a handout.  Some of the local restaurants which feed the local homeless out the back door, are closed.  The social services are limited due to the pandemic and people of good will are confined to their homes.

The chronic homeless like “Birdman” are out there on the streets.  They may not be in our neighborhoods but look around, you’ll see them.  They aren’t going away; their numbers may grow as this pandemic lingers. 

“Birdman” is just one story out there.