On Meeting Stewart
It was not an ordinary day. It snowed in the middle of April. She opened the blinds and seeing the accumulated flakes on the ground, she changed quickly and found a warmer coat to wear. Grabbing some food she left to catch the bus. In a rush, she almost fell in the slippery sidewalk. The bus came, then on to the long ride to the train. Staring outside the window she saw that the geese and birds were out in the park. Seeing them gave her a certain pleasure that was short lived when the bus arrived at the bus stop that serves as shelter for this homeless man. She saw anguish in his eyes, cold in his body as he stood there surrounded by his belongings. He sleeps on the bench with those divisions that were put there to deter people like him from using them as beds.
Some call the homeless invisible people, but in this cold snowy morning he was the most visible human alive.
As the bus reached the train station she prepared for the long trek on the train. She put on lipstick to bring color to her existence. Meanwhile the man out on the cold was almost out of her thoughts. Next week I’ll bring him food she thought remembering him, feeling that familiar sense of carrying the guilt of the world.
People in the train looked tired, angry, sleepy, apathetic, or most, were lost in their cell phones. Texting, tagging, posting, listening to music, each in their own world. Hard to make contact, her mind returned to the image of that man. She started thinking of when she’ll be free to bring the visible man something. That’s how she tried to appease her mind.
The train moved, stopped, went in a straight line under the subway, then up and finally reached her stop. She got off at that familiar location that is surrounded by Asian smells. She walked west, passed the beautiful house with a huge garden that is running wild, the one she would want to live in. The rest of the homes are in much better shape, they mirror the neighborhood. An area where the entrails of gentrification haven’t yet destroyed. She walked on the sunny side, feeling the wind coming from the lake, then crossed to the other side.
Almost at her destination, she met Stewart. Why Stewart, today of all not so ordinary days, she wondered. From the beginning he was so friendly and precious. Nothing between them was transitional. They met. Feeling the human touch she smiled and was happy for an instant. Stewart made her lighthearted. She touched him, and he kissed her. She blushed, not knowing what to say, she laughed a little and said, “how cute. You, Stewart made my morning.”
He and his owner walked away. His tail still wagging, moving carefree, enjoying the walk on that cold morning. The touch of his fur lingered in her hands, his black eyes, his cold little nose and his mouth as he kissed her remained in her mind.
Elated, she welcomed the day and entered the building.
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Leticia Cortez is a teacher, writer, activist and loves film. She was born in Mexico, grew up in Chicago. She travels the art world, both in her imagination and in her book, art and film reviews. She also writes political essays, short stories and poetry. Presently she teaches Latin American Literature in English and Spanish at St. Augustine College.