Streets

I was in town the other day, and, like any other day in town, I was approached by a couple 'street kids'. I had seen them before, well, maybe not their particular eyes and smile, but "them"- the torn clothes that look like rags, the dust covered feet, the empty hand outstretched. "Them". Their presence can feel claustrophobic, their words can fall on deaf ears. Street kids.

When they called out "amingo" (friend in "spanish"), I turned, winked, and kept walking. I was in a bit of a hurry. Again, they did not seem familiar to me, as so many of them have come to be. The first one called out again and held up his rag. The second one told me to "give him one dollar". I shook my head and continued walking. As I walked away, the conversation between the two went something like this-

"Paige said don't ask for money. Paige said if you help someone, like dust off a car or carry a box you will get money. But don't beg. Help."

"Oh."

I guess I had seen those particular eyes and smile before. I guess my words hadn't fallen of deaf ears like their words often fall on others'.