Victorious Vagabond

Victorious Vagabond

Even towering over everyone John seemed meek. Like he felt out of place. Eyes peered onto him cascading a plethora of different prejudices. I too secretly judged the man wondering how his life had taken him to living abroad. John, short for John Doe, was homeless and it was apparent. The florescent lights of this mega convenience store were bright. They illuminated clearly the person ahead of me in line, and it was apparent he had been neglecting his bathing. I had never met him before, and after five minutes I will never see him again.
His appearance said miles of use. Much wear and tear on his aged body. The most noticing feature was his face. On it was a large, red, cratered nose. His forehead had deep crevices wrinkled over shadowed sunken eyes. Icy blue retinas, like daggers, pierced those deep sockets. Sharp crows feet cut outward to his ears. He was fitted with dirty old blue jeans and an over worn polo shirt with a turned up collar. Dark gray hair clumped together in thick strands across his sun burnt balding scalp. Swollen face and bulging belly said malnutrition. I only looked up at him once, but we caught glances and he had pain in that gaze. Where had he come from? There was almost a hint of good morals in the manner he held. Like he was a productive member in our society at one time. Maybe he had gained all that we strive for and found it empty?
Before John got to the front of the line I hadn’t really given him too much thought. The homeless are nothing overly unusual in my day to day activities, but the item he was purchasing caught me off guard. Thread. Common dark blue sowing thread. To purchase this he pulled out a handful of nickels and pennies. Such precious money probably took hours out in the sun begging to acquire. This must have been important. After carefully replacing the left over currency he shifted his feet slightly and looked at the ground as if embarrassed. The cashier hastily hands John his receipt and he quickly picks up his thread and walks away.
Whether John is stitching a hole in a bag, mending old clothing, or making a sweater his purchase spoke of necessity. He had chose to fix something as opposed to letting it fall apart. Instead of buying alcohol he was purchasing a constructive item. Choosing a positive direction.
It is not uncommon to see different life styles and circumstances while out in public, but John has been a source of hope for me. Our brief interaction left a mark in my mind. He reminded me that no matter how hard life is, even when everything is falling apart we can still buy thread…and fix things. We can patch our tears and holes and keep moving on.