28 Degree Morning

Driving down Aurora Avenue after a cold morning fitness class. Toes and hands numb, I enjoy my heated car seat, the welcome warm air from the heater’s fans pointed right at me. I feel good as I thaw out, tapping my hands on the steering wheel. A loud song on the radio.

Singing along, I stop at a red light in front of The Purple Store, an example of ridiculous consumerism if ever there was one. I glance over, always surprised that it’s still open. And there he is, on this bright 28 degree morning.

Lying against the wall, two dirty foam mattresses keeping him off the ground, if not away from the cold air rising from the sidewalk. Blankets piled up over his sleeping bag, reaching to his chin. Awake in his hood, he stares miserably at the sky, Big Gulp cup by his side, an empty food container next to it. He looks eerily like my student, Billy.

Billy, the funny, friendly college kid with the look of an affectionate puppy. Billy, who with his mix of humor and seriousness, makes his classmates laugh. Billy who everyone likes.  Billy who, unlike many of his peers in class, spent his childhood playing baseball and hanging out with his friends instead of spending all his time under parental pressure to study. Billy worries about that sometimes. Does it mean he’s not sufficiently serious enough to tackle the future?

The young man lying on the sidewalk on Aurora, trying to keep warm on a 28 degree morning could be Billy’s twin brother. If this or that had been different, he could have been a Billy, himself, sitting in a college classroom instead of lying on the ground trying not to freeze. Making his classmates laugh instead of staring miserably at the sky.

The light turns green. I drive away.

Billy/not Billy remains.

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