Day 23 - Santa Cruz
When they say Keep Santa Cruz Weird, they mean it. The other day I saw a naked man with one leg changing his clothes in a wheelchair. He was on the sidewalk and I scolded myself for my thoughts. Instead of turning away, I should have been turning towards, I scolded. Instead of recoiling I should be receiving the grace of the miracle that I got to change my clothes in the privacy of my own bedroom.
In the morning when I go for my walk, downtown seems to be the homeless, the drug addicts, and me. No one (Well, one dude, but whatever. I've cursed plenty of people less offensive than I am.) has ever said or done an unkind thing to me. There are so many bare feet, so many tattooed arms, so many thin bellies. I don't know what to do. I keep my headphones in. I head for Peet's to get my tea.
Thank you, lord almighty for not making drugs tempting to me. Thank you for my family, my friends, my history, my cushion of people who make it so I'm not one of the women living by the side of a building under a garbage bag. I say I don't take my life for granted, but I do, because otherwise I'd be sobbing every time I walk downtown.
So, tonight I'm grateful.