Me And The Homeless Man

• Rosana Smyth, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2022

When I was in primary school, I used to walk to school. Every day. When I would I walk to school, I would see this man. Alone. Unshaved. Dirty. Old. I wondered what his name was, why he was there. What he was doing with his life. When I walked by myself, I felt sympathy for him. Not the kind where you feel sorry for someone because you know something or guess something about them. No. This was the kind of sympathy where I wanted to get closer to him because I could tell he had no-one to wrap his arms around. Especially on those cold winter nights. Sometimes I would try to get close to him, to talk to him. He was blind. He never flinched at the sound of me. When I walked with my friends, they were selfish and cruel to him. Most of the time, I gave him half of my lunch when they were not looking. One night, my parents gave me a talk. ‘There are homeless people out there. And they will always be out there. You can’t do anything about it. You can’t say anything about it. We just have to keep to ourselves, ok? After all, he’s just another homeless man’. Hearing these words made me feel like I lived in a dark house with a dark family who had no care at all. The next day, I decided to visit my aunt. She worked in a homeless shelter, which is where homeless people go to get things they might not usually be able to get. The real reason why I went there was to see if my homeless man was there. Sure enough, there he was. Sitting in the corner, with his puppy dog. A beagle. With a collar. So maybe he wasn’t homeless? I asked my aunt about this and she said ‘Maybe he got the dog when he wasn’t homeless. When he had enough money to buy a collar? Something like that. You don’t need to worry’. I didn’t worry, but thought. If he had a ‘before’, what was his ‘before’ like? Was he rich? Poor? Kind? Mean? Able to see? This time, I did go up to him. ‘Hello, my name is Lilac. What is your name?’ I asked him. He didn’t respond. So I chatted with him. Yes, I called it ‘chatting’. Even though he didn’t respond to anything I would say. Eventually, the end of the day came. I had told him everything I knew about the world, and hugged his beagle several times. ‘Well. Goodbye Mr..’ I was trying to figure out his name. ‘Don. My name is Don and you.....are a lovely girl.’ he said to me. I was shocked. He had spoken.

After that, I went to him every day after school. We talked for hours and sometimes I washed his dog for him. We became best friends. Me and the Homeless Man.