I’m so used to seeing Bill every day as I walk down Lexington Avenue that when I don’t, I worry about him. It’s been unusually cold in New York, lately, and I hadn’t see him for a while, so when I did, I caught up with him, checking to see if he was all right.
He was in a good mood. He had just arrived at his usual spot in front of Equinox. He’s working with a counselor with one of the municipal agencies and he had just met with her. She’s helping him navigate the bureaucracy of services, getting his paperwork in order, so that he can get job. “I have hope,” he said, explaining to me how close he was to being able to get a job, leave the shelter and get his own place. Imagining his future brought that smile to his face.
Since I’ve started this series I’ve been asked more than once why “these people” don’t just get a job. It’s a question I used to ask, myself. Now I know that the answer is because it’s very hard. I also now know that they’re all trying very hard to escape.
Bill’s efforts seem to finally be paying off. His optimism left me hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, there will be a time when I won’t see him in front of Equinox anymore. He’ll just be gone. And I’ll be happy for him.