DJ slept in the doorway of our multistory office building adjacent to Portland's pristine living room with it's grandstanding, sparkling Christmas tree. A soft pink morning light flooded the sky and the air between the buildings as pin points of the sun's rays began to shard over the building tops.The building's inhabitants badged in, nearly stepping over him. But I stopped. I stood for a moment watching him rouse up from his stiff and painful sleep.
He lay directly on the concrete with his jacket on and a small blue blanket that covered his shoulders and only down to his knees. I think about how hard it is for me to walk to my car on cold days or wait for a max train.. How the cold finds a way in. So succinctly. Like water through the crevices of a car that has careened into a lake or a river. That cold will find a way to your bones. Can you imagine sleeping in it?! I think it must be impossible, but then I remember, for just a flash moment as I gaze into the unusual pinkness of the atmosphere and the sharp cast of sun's rays beginning to seep into the streets, that there is such as thing as the unseen hosts. I wonder how much the presence of those hosts play a role in serving as keepers of the souls on the streets on nights like this.
He blinks, hands shaking, he lights a cigarette, even before his eyes have focused, even before he has fully found grounding in reality from whatever dark unconscious world he was just in. He lights a cigarette. His breath now animated rolls out into the morning cold. It moves like he cannot. He is somewhat transfixed by it.
I place my coffee, unsampled at his feet. He looks up at me unsurprised to see me, but somewhat paused to see me take a seat next to him. I let him catch his breath.
"What happened?" I asked. It occurs to me that such forward question, such a sharp and personal question may feel as one of those sun's shards had taken on ice form and jammed into his flesh. Usually we are not so forward with people are we? Because they are sleeping in our office building doorway?
I get stayed looks, not necessarily bad looks from my coworkers as they badge in walking past, now, both of us.
He looked over at me eyes now focused.
"Drugs" he said croaked.
He was not at all pensive in answering.
"Did you feel as though things began happening that you couldn't control?" I asked
"Yeah", he breathed, "That's what started it, and then drugs"
"What did you do before?" I asked
"Construction." he says, drawing another cigarette. This time his head bows a bit. I imagine his mind flashed back to a time he was on a job site.
"I just need an opportunity." He finishes.
I wonder about that.
"If I got you an appointment with a day crew construction labor temp service, would you be able to use Mission's showers get ready and show up at job site?"
"Yeah, yeah, I can do it!" He says. He straightens his back.
I gaze upon his unsteady hands and blood red eyes. The rest of him? The rest of him looks like a young, strapping, at-one-time handsome young man. He even wears the winter wind breaker from the former construction company he used to work for. His name is still embroidered on the front.
"Give me your number DJ"- when you get this number it's from me. Promise me you'll follow through okay?
"Yeah, yeah...thank you.."
I take another look at DJ and tell him, I've got to badge in for work. Right now, I'm praying to those hosts of the air that seem to stabilize the souls that lay on our streets at night, that they inhabit the very cells of this young man. Undo the horrendous damage and provide one more chance. There are a lot of bodies laying on these streets now, but I've seen miracles with my own eyes before, perhaps I'll see just one more. I truly wish I could see the unseen hosts. I even squint my eyes into the morning sun to see if one will take form just for a moment. No, not today.
I badge myself into work, understanding that there is very little between myself and DJ.
