Every morning that I go running, I pass by a black pickup truck that is always parked in my neighborhood. I guess I should also mention that two blocks down from my apartment is the local homeless shelter. As you can probably guess, there’s a correlation between the shelter and the truck. The back of the pickup is filled, or more so piled, with various items that, most likely, filled some sort of home a time ago. The passenger side is often crammed with things, nearly to the roof. I would tend to believe that this is one man’s home, as I often see him on one of my various morning routes, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper.
He’s not an unfriendly individual by any means. A few times I have exchanged a friendly “hello” and “good morning” as I pass by. The truck itself is not in bad shape. It’s a large Dodge Ram. Not a very old model. Often pretty clean. Just by what I have been able to understand up to this point, it seems life took an awful, sudden turn for the worst. This just has to be his new home for now. Sometimes, I honestly feel bad when I get home late and park near his vehicle. Then I look over as I walk by, and he’s still asleep. He could just be pretending, but I don’t think he views me as any type of threat. It’s a daily realization of being thankful for everything that you do have.
Life is short. I’m doing the best I can with it.