We Are One

 



As I drove along Orcutt Rd. in San Luis Obispo, I thought I saw a bundle of clothes in the gutter. When I got closer, I realized the clothing contained a person. I quickly parked my car and approached.

            “Are you all right?”

            She opened her eyes and nodded yes. Her brown, leathery face suggested many hours spent in the sun. Wisps of black hair mixed with gray peeked out from her wool cap. Surprisingly, for a homeless person, she wore a warm jacket and ski pants; her feet encased in running shoes. Silver and turquoise rings adorned her fingers.

            “Are you in pain?”

            She said “No.”

            I whipped out my cell phone and dialed 911.

            A crisp voice answered “911. What’s your emergency?”

            “There’s a person lying in the street.”

            “On Orcutt Rd?” the operator interrupted.

            “Yes.”

            “You’re the third call we received. The police have already checked her. She’s fine.”

            “She’s not fine. She’s lying in the street.” I insisted.

            “Ma’am, she’s fine.”

            “I can’t leave her here. I’m afraid she’ll get run over.”

            “I’ll send the police again” the operator assured me.

            I tried to coax the woman up so I could get her out of the gutter. She wouldn’t let me help her up..

            “I’m tired. I didn’t sleep last night,” she said.

            Another car stopped and a man came to the rescue. His strength got her to her feet and with the woman between us, we got her to the sidewalk. Her legs wobbled and we needed to hold her from falling. The man tried to get her to sit on some nearby bushes.

            “No!... dogs pee on that,” she said. Meanwhile urine ran down the legs of her trousers onto her shoes and sidewalk. She smelled dreadful.

            “Let’s get her to those steps,” I said and we half walked, half dragged her to some wide steps. The man plopped her down and left.

            “What’s your name?” I asked.

            “Gilly”

            “Do you have somewhere to go tonight, Gilly?”

            “No.”

            “The homeless shelter is less than a block away. I’ll take you there.”

            “I don’t want to go there.” She seemed adamant.

            “Why?”

            She mumbled something about “a hundred and twenty nine days probation.”

            “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”  She dismissed my question with a wave of her hand. I wondered what kept the police so long. They should have arrived by now.

            I felt helpless. I didn’t know what to do for this poor woman. All I could think of was prayer.

            “Gilly, will you pray with me?” A nod yes.

            So I took her hand and prayed aloud and promised her I’d continue to pray for her. She nodded. I had to leave her sitting on the step and it brought tears to my eyes. The police never came.
No Matter her condition, she's a fellow human being.

I am she and she is me. We are one.