Peace of Mind

I was homeless for over two years, close to three cumulatively.

It's a fact, and why doesn't matter any longer.

It was a trying time for me. A time spent looking for direction, answers, and most often companionship. It was a small town, and I would stand in the middle of the street at 3 a.m., looking and listening for something or someone to come my way, but it never did.

There was a bench in town. During the day you could never get a seat there, but at night it was all mine. I sat there looking up and down the street, thinking to myself how deadly silent this usually bustling town had become. At the same time, I could hear the factories buzzing almost a half a mile away, and it made me smile to know that others were going about their lives, unaware of my current predicament.

This is why I moved to the city. At any time of the day, somebody, somewhere, is doing something. This gives me a sense of comfort for some reason, although I can't exactly explain why. I sometimes wake up at night, 3 or 4 a.m., and just stand in my living room listening for sounds from outside.

A train crossing the bridge a few blocks away...

Traffic on the interstate, or a plane taking off from the nearby airport...

And then I go back to bed, content.

The other night I was walking home from downtown. It was a cold, January night, and the streets were unusually quiet. I found myself in this little park in the middle of Boston and I saw this bench. Cold, dark, steel, but inviting. I sat for a moment and listened...

It was silent.

Minutes later a taxi buzzed by, followed by another, and other cars followed. The city was alive again.

And I went home, content.