46. Rain

It’s chilly this morning. A soft rain is falling, almost a mist, barely disturbing the surface of the puddles. The blessing of it is that there will be no new raging wildfires today like the ones that have ravaged California all year.

There’s a close and comforting quality about rainy days, as if winter has finally turned the calendar page and now we warm-blooded creatures have taken our refuge indoors, those of us who are blessed to have a refuge in the warm dry lovely safety of indoors.

I try to let go of my sadness, for a little while, for the others who don’t have this, the homeless who are camped not far away on the other side of the park. The little village there has grown to about 40 tents and makeshift shanties now, right next to the sidewalk on Broadway, across the street from the massive multi-million-dollar Kaiser Hospital’s newest and biggest complex. I think the money they spend on toilet paper every month would probably feed these people for year. But that’s not the way corporations work, and Kaiser is still calling itself “not-for-profit” and so paying no taxes on its millions.

But the homeless somehow bravely soldier-on, camped right in the faces of the millionaires and other strangers passing by in their cars, hurrying to their business and their lives. Right there on this arterial street, right next to the sidewalk, where the world cannot help but see them and be forced to think about how wrong this is.

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