Anything Helps.

I spent the better part of two hours this evening driving on I35, and then around connecting highways and onramps, navigating the spaghetti bowl of San Antonio.  I get lost so often here, that I bring the GPS unit whenever I leave post, and I never plan to get anywhere in a reasonable amount of time.  Its kind of metaphoric how lost I’ve been all summer, representative of where my mind is at, and how lost I’ve gotten in myself and my thoughts lately. 

We spend a lot of time doing nothing, and waiting, and as a result Ive found more than enough time to think, and day dream – the beginning of anticipation and disappointment; the beginning of reflections and regret.

I drove to Whole Foods Market.  I never used to shop there; I found it snobby and pretentious, and expensive – the last part being the determining factor, but things changed when I found myself allergic to wheat, and needing (well at least wanting) more than produce and cheese.  Being in the field for weeks, I’ve been losing weight, so I was looking for nutritional supplement bars –whole foods being the best place to find them.  And $60 later, I’m never really sure how I manage to spend that much money on “snacks,” I’ve got all kinds of exciting fake food to eat all week.  Finding that a great success, I remembered my craving for coffee, Iced Coffee, from Starbucks, preferably with a friend, in center city – but we take what we can get, right?  So, I found one in Alamo heights and wandered in.  The barista was nice, and laughed when I admitted I was addicted to Iced coffee… she was too.  Not that it’s a tough drink, but she made it well, and when I requested soy milk instead of “cow milk” her eyes lit up and she found a kindred spirit.  As she handed me my grande – she deviously asked if I liked the flavored ice coffee.  You see, this particular Starbucks, carried several varieties of flavored soy milk – and she had handcrafted the perfect vanilla bean, soy, iced coffee.  She asked if I wanted to try it – and how could I say no…  so I didn’t.  Thinking I was going to get a taste, she made me an entire cup, and when I drank it – I had to admit, I would probably be back on every day I had off for the rest of the summer.  I wanted to hug her.  It was the best thing that has happened to me since I got to San Antonio. 

I drove home, in bliss, I missed coffee so, so much.  And I had my snobby snacks, and my soy milk and gluten free cereal, and Salmon Avacado sushi for dinner.  I felt good.  And then approaching the entrance to Ft. Sam, things changed.

There are usually aggressive pan handlers on the sides of the I35 off ramp, and desensitized I usually drive past them but as I approached the light, it turned red and I stopped two cars behind a young woman standing next to the cement barrier.  She was about my age, baseball cap over her blonde hair, and a look of genuine shame and desperation.  She had a large dirty white t shirt and dirty jeans, and held a small sign in her hands that read, “Anything Helps.”  No one was opening their windows.  Its hot here, even in the evenings, and breaking the seal of Air Conditioning for someone desperate is far too much trouble.  And I looked straight ahead like I normally do, and thought about something else.  But I caught my Whole Foods grocery bag, and Starbucks coffee cup in my peripheral vision, and I felt like a horrible person suddenly, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I looked out my window and made eye contact with the woman.  I reached for my wallet, took out the cash, and opened the window.  She approached and she was sunburned her lips were cracked, but she smiled and I said, “Im sorry this is all I have.”

“No.  Bless you.”  She answered, somehow moved by the small amount of money I had given her.  It wasn’t a lot at all, it wasn’t enough to do anything.  But anything helped.

“Goodluck,” was all I could say as the light changed and I felt a lump in my throat and my eyes begin to tear.

“You too,” she replied.  And she smiled again, as if to reassure ME that it was all going to be ok.

I am so lucky, and I complain so much about what I don’t have.  I should have done more for that woman, I should have given her my groceries, taken her somewhere for a meal, or a good nights sleep.  I could be her, I could be in her shoes – but I’m not and I complain so much.  I am so lucky, and blessed, as she put it – even if I refuse to admit that there might be something out there bigger than this.  I am blessed even if I tell myself that there isn’t a god, because I cant fathom it, and all of my plans seem so insignificant sometimes.  I am blessed, for some reason, and I feel so guilty for that.

I just want to be a good person.