Day Three Hundred and Sixty Five

I was talking with a friend a few weeks when he said, "In the past year you've been through Hell and back". The statement caused me to pause. Up until then it hadn't dawned on me that it has been a year since this all started. But today is the exact one year mark since this all started.

I personally don't consider this year to have been Hell. I've seen real Hell and this year wasn't it. There are things in my life I'd change in a heart beat but I wouldn't trade being a street kid for all the money in the world.

I have never felt more alive than I did as a street kid, more than that I have never felt so connected to the people around me or more like part of a family.

I never really believe in love before this past year. I always thought it was just a four letter word people use to manipulate others. I don't even like using the word love. It's completely awkward out of my mouth. The only thing in the world I say "I love you" to is my cat. So, it's not something I casually throw around.

However, I think this year has taught me that love is a thing, depending on how you define it. Dictionary.com defines love as a "profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person or a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection". I remember in high school a friend told me, "Love is a choice, not an emotion".

I think both definitions are right.

I have a deep attachment to the kids that I survived the streets with. There's a connection between street kids that even after a year I cannot find words to explain. Even if the Ginger Clan came to me and asked for help I probably wouldn't be able to just walk away.

Love is not all roses and daisies and fairy tales. It's painful.

Street kids form their own families. Kitten Lady and Houdini were mine. Jesus too in some ways. I'd do anything for them. All three are still on the streets. I can't describe what it feels like to not know where your kin is sleeping at night.

Once again Kitten Lady has disappeared. It has been a month since anyone has heard from her. The last person who has heard from her said that she told him she helped a lady hit and the lady over dosed. KL tried to perform CPR but the woman died anyways.

At this point I am seriously considering flying to St Louis as soon as finals are over so I can find her and bring her home. Everyone tells me she is a lost cause and to put it bluntly, I should just let her die. I can't do that. People say the same thing about me, that I'm not worth the trouble. I know what it feels like when everyone has given up on you. I don't want to do that to her. If I would have stuck to her the way I should have she would have never gone to St Louis or been in this position in the first place.

Furthermore, I have never forgotten the day when we thought we heard gun shots and she covered me to shield me from the motorcycle we had mistaken for bullets. I know if roles were reversed she would go through whatever it took to bring me home.

I had her sing me a song on my voice mail. She sang "Lucky" by Jason Mraz.

Lucky I'm in love with my best friend. Lucky to have been where I have been. Lucky to be coming home someday. 

I cling to my blind hope that her singing that verse to me was her way of promising she will come home as I have been begging her to do. At the same time the song reflects my own feelings. I'm lucky to have had the experiences that I have had and met the people I have met through my experiences on the streets. I learned so much in the last year. It changed me.

One of the last times I heard from KL she said, "We were the happiest damn homeless kids. You've never seen a homeless person so happy." It's true. We really were happy. We had fun. It wasn't easy but we made the best of it. Our friendship is what got me through it. We laughed so much. Even our most awful experiences were the cause of laughter.

Like the day we were almost arrested for sleeping on the church wall but the cops were never able to get over the fence. I thought we were going to die. In the end it just proved Portland cops are too fat to hop a fence little homeless kids can climb.

Or when we got caught stealing food at Fred Meyers and had to run from the police with KL in a wheel chair, holding a kitten, with a face mask on. She lost her shoe and fell off the curb, sending the kitten running. I still wish we could have seen what we looked like.

We had a lot of hardships like KL's kitten being attacked by a pitbull or KL breaking her foot in Hell and having to carry her up while she was in agonizing pain. Then we had to use someone else's identity to get her into the hospital.

The girl who let us use her identity, we presume is dead. The last we saw her she was saying someone was after her. No one has seen or heard from her since. KL, Houdini and I all thought she was just being melodramatic.

There are some things I miss. I miss the freedom, the absence of any responsibilities outside of survival. I miss the connection to people, feeling like I was part of something bigger. Sometimes I feel lonely not being surrounded by people the way I was. Which is odd. I was always more isolated before being a street kid. Being alone was comfortable. Now, it's not.

I think overall I'm doing pretty well for myself though. This term I will finish my associate's degree. I'm working two jobs, both over minimum wage and I'm making good money. Not only that, I'm working two jobs I like. I have a nice townhouse and my cats are happy. In one year I pulled myself out of the streets. These are all good things. For the most part I am happy with where things are.

For awhile I was trying to get my old life back. I was trying to go back to the old lifestyle of dating, going out dancing, and being a social butterfly with my old friends. I still do these things but I've realized it will never be the same as it was before. I feel differently about things.

There is survival guilt. It's not really fair I get to sleep inside when I know my friends are sleeping out in the cold and rain. When it's nice out I worry less but when it rains I worry constantly about the people I know are sleeping out in the elements. I let people stay over when I can but with work and school I'm not always available.

Where has everyone else landed in the last year?

Houdini: is selling drugs to support himself but staying clean. He is saving up for a car and an apartment.
Jesus: is back in downtown Portland. He went home to his family but after various events ended up sleeping in a tent. He was working but eventually came back in hopes of getting services. He was denied services at OI because he left his job and is now sleeping outside.
Drama Girl hasn't left the streets or gotten her baby back but she is no longer dating Dreadlocks.
Dreadlocks I have no update for.
Baby Mama is doing well. She has her own place and little man is now six months old. He has a mess of curly hair, and just like in his ultra sound he always has his hand in his face.
Ginger Clan had a baby eleven months after they first claimed they were pregnant.
The majority of the kids I was in housing with were kicked out.

That's what I know.

It feels like it has been both longer and shorter than a year. I saw a lot of things that most people can't comprehend and I've faced a lot  of challenges but regardless, this last year is one I wouldn't change for anything.

--mm