The best laid plans and all that…
Friday (not last, but the one before that) I was running late when I got out of work. I needed to get on the road before traffic. I needed to get to my dad’s and start my vacation. And I was running late.
For the first time in a long time, I put myself first. I didn’t stop by to see Mandy – it would have added at least 30 minutes to my night. So, I told myself it would be okay – hoped it would be so, and went got on the road. As it was the 2.5 hour drive took me nearly 4 hours, cutting into the valuable brother/sister time that I crave all year long. (My brother is a Marine, meaning I only get to see him a few precious days a year.)
After a week cut off from the world, I returned to work and passed Mandy’s spot. There was a girl there… Thin, wearing some really in style (80’s style that is) clothes. That’s not Mandy. <sadness> I don’t know what happened to her. I hope she’s there later – or some time this week. If not, i can hope that she’s in a shelter… Maybe I’ll reach out to my contacts at ProjectHOME. Maybe I won’t. Because really – I’m not certain I want the answer. I know it’s a more than a little cowardly to not want to know what happened… but I know what happens to women who are on the street too long, and that’s a guilt I’m positive can eat me alive. It’s a truth, I’m not certain I can bear.
I don’t regret stealing the extra 30 minutes for my brother and I. I don’t regret my actions that day – but perhaps the day before, or the day before that… maybe I could have gotten her the information ahead of time – although I couldn’t buy her the pass until that day. Curses on bad timing.