It’s another wet, rainy, cold day in the city, then, miracle, the clouds lift for one hour–our hour.
It’s been raining for days. We didn’t know whether we would be able to stand for an hour if the rain came down as it has in the last few days and most of the night. As we board the train, blue sky peeks through the clouds. The drizzle that hit my face when I left the house is already merely a mist.
Miraculously, while we stand, the sun comes out and the rain ceases entirely. Just as we’re climbing from the train on our return, the rain slams down hard. I open my umbrella and nearly lose it.
All I can think of, fighting the wind and piercing rain, is the men and women we saw picking up their sleeping bags and meager belongings from the rain-soaked ground as we arrived in the plaza this morning.
I know for a fact there are not enough shelters to keep them all safe and dry. Where will they go? Where did the lucky ones sleep last night?
We cannot make peace in the world until we find a way to provide care for those who cannot care for themselves.
Text and image © L Kathryn Grace – All rights reserved