Diana & Buddy For Today

I want to know so much more about her. And her little dog too.

I've been biking past her for two months, wondering how cold she must be on that bench. Wondering why she's there at all and not at the local shelter. Hoping she'll be there another day, the next day, when I screw up my courage to finally talk to her. Two weeks ago I worked up the courage to say "Hello" as I rode past, and I've been doing that every time since. I had a twenty in my pocket one time when I went to the store close to her bridge, but I couldn't do it.

Today I did it. I set out from my house and walked to her bridge, hoping against hope she was there. Then seeing her and feeling ebullient. Then deflated as I worried that she'd yell at me if I tried to talk to her. But determined. I had to try.

My parents' message about homeless people was "Look away. Don't make eye contact. Keep walking." We only saw homeless when we went to Minneapolis or Milwaukee. In my little hometown, there was no such thing. Is that why my normally-humanitarian parents had such a harsh message? Because the strangeness and overwhelming nature of the big city intimidated them too? Was it only a childhood message that they would now change to me as an adult child?

Two bikers rode under the bridge as I got within hailing distance of her. I almost lost courage. I felt shame that they would see me approaching her. I let them bike by and then called out to her.

"Hi. I was really hoping you'd be here today. I've been riding by and saying hi to you."

Murky eyes turned my way, and her little dog lunged toward my voice, peeling his way out of her sleeping bag.

"Hi. What's your name?"

And like that, I told her. And she told me - Diana and Buddy. Everyone calls him "Buddy Love" because he loves everybody. Did she need anything? Some chicken and a Pepsi would be nice, because she's blind. She can give me money. Could I get it?

I did. I walked to the store and returned to then help her unstick her sleeping bag zipper. "It was new when he gave it to us to use." Because of it, she's warm enough at night. But she would like a radio. "Can you find me a radio to listen to?" Am I sure I don't want money for the chicken and pop?

I will find her a radio. And maybe I'll move in closer and find out her story. I have so many questions. Why is she there? How long has she been homeless? Who else is giving her things? Are people good to her? Does she feel safe? Was she always blind? Is that why she's homeless? Where is her family?

But today, I got in closer. They are Diana and Buddy.