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| Beautiful Virginia Beach |
My son and I left the Hotel a few hours ago after visiting my in-laws who have been staying there since Christmas. The hotel is beautiful; high in the air and hovering over the beautiful cold, empty beach, and boardwalk. Overlooking the calm Atlantic sea. Since we’d arrived there a little later than we initially planned, we just hanged you, ate dinner and parted; no time for the beach.
I took my son to pick up my car, which was parked on the third level of one of the largest public parking garages in the neighbor. It is located a few blocks from the hotel and about fifteen minutes’ walk – an opportunity to run with my son who never ceased to let an opportunity to run, slips. I think he was born with restless feet.
Before I turned my cellphone off, I glanced at the temperature. It was 29 degree Fahrenheit (equivalent of -1.6 degree Celsius). very cold and windy.
My son yelled – “let race daddy”. Somehow my son is delighted in my own failure, weaknesses and pain. Especially when he beats me in a race. I obliged. We took our mark and raced down the road - on the sidewalk. This road is usually filled with tourists of all types in the Summer. This cold night, the streets were empty. A sign that perhaps most people spend their new year’s eve at home with family and loved ones.
We ran passed a couple who called out “Happy New year” in a foreign accent. I thought the two maybe from out of town; perhaps visiting friends. But who would wanna visit this beach town in the end of December? It is a ghost-town during Fall and Winter time. We pressed on: passed a few buildings. Oh, I felt as if my lungs were trying to free themselves from my ribcage. I almost puke but I had to catch up with my son who was running toward an Intersection. This is a father’s worst nightmare – the fear that the child may not understand the danger lurking in the corner.
I finally caught up to him and grabbed his hand. We turned into a gas station to take the short-cut. We haven't run this far, my son yelled out excitingly and I agreed. We have not had a race since Summer. The night was extremely cold. Fog began falling about us. I turned my phone again, it was 40 minutes to 2015.
The Atlantic wind bounced off the tall buildings, cooling everything through out the surrounding area. Even the door knob made of ice. I hate the Winter.
We embraced the cold-breeze as we approached the entrance. My son grasped my right hand as we slowly making our way to the door. Cars kindly gave way to us. We happily and hurriedly crossed the road. From outside glass-doors, I saw a man sitting by the elevator, leaning against the wall. Exhausted, I reached for the door and pulled it open. My son stepped in first, but appeared to ignore the stranger. That man was sitting in the only warmest spot in town; a small empty space facing the elevator.
I looked at him as I walked passed. He lifted his head, but seemed weak; he lowered his head and looked away. His jeans seemed to have been on him for weeks and perhaps months – torn and worn. His shoes looked ancient, dirty and torn. He was clutching on to a piece of dirty thick cloth; probably his blanket. His hood coves his head from shame, sun, wind, and off course the unforgiving Winter weather. I wonder how he survived these cold years.
He appeared to be a middle age man, perhaps in his 50s; too young to be in such a sorry state, I thought to myself. Whatever his circumstances are, the sight of him disturbed me tremendously.
My son hurried to the elevator and pressed the button. I looked up and saw No: 3 in red color just above the elevator. The elevator was making its way day from the top levels.
I looked back at the guy, he tried to look at us through the corner of his eyes; perhaps hoping we weren’t looking at him. Our eyes met and he gradually dropped his head as if he was saying – please leave me alone. I looked at him, wondering why he ended up there. My mind had seconds to think of possible reasons why the guy ended up this way, but I could only think of one thing – life is just simply unfair.
My son yelled at me, “The door is not opening”. I showed him the number on the top of the elevator it was still on No: 3, I realized he didn't press the button hard enough. I reached over and hit the button a few times then turned again to the homeless guy, he adjusted his body as if he was trying to position his body so he could put his head against the wall to his left shoulder. What a sad scene.
I reached into my pocket and pull my wallet out and took out $10 and gave it to my son. Take this and give it to the old-man. My son, grabbed the money and ran to the guy. I heard him say “Hey, money for you”. The guy suddenly came to life. He reached up, took the money, growling out - “Oooooh, thank you so much” as if he had just won the lotto. He looked over at me, I nodded and he waved, but then I noticed tears streaming down his face. God, it was just $10, I thought! But then I realized that even such little money is a world of happiness for the rejects of society who have literally nothing but worn out clothes.
He smiled and uttered “thank you” one more time and waved. The elevator suddenly opened behind us. My son went first and asked – which number? I went in and hit 3. The homeless guy waved as the door closed in front us. Moments later, we found ourselves inside the car, but I didn’t know what to say. My son continued bragging about winning the race to the car, but he had no idea how torn I was inside. This is the last day of 2014 and the last thing I wanted to see is a man with such agony.
This encounter reminds me that while the world is enjoying, some people aren’t fortunate enough. All they want for Christmas and new year is a warm spot to spend the evening. Some of these homeless people succumbed to the cold and the life of homelessness.This is the ugly side of all developed societies.
I pulled out of the parking garage and drove down the beautiful streets, passed the entrance where the homeless guy spent the last of 2014, where he was waiting for the arrival 2015. No celebration for this man. He is there waiting to embrace the new year with more uncertainties and heartaches ahead.
I marveled at the beautiful, dazzling lights of the city streets as I drove back to the pick up my wife and daughter who were waiting at the Lobby. The place is beautiful. Off course, it is a tourist city, I whispered to myself. Passed two hotels and turned in. The drop-off zone was packed with guests who who just arrived.
Its been a long time since I visited this place. It is an amazing city in the night; adorned with all kinds of colorful buildings, expensive skyscrapers, and a beautiful boardwalk situated in front of the beautiful wide, white sandy beach. It is a busy place in the summer. When the weather warms up, almost every inch of every street, beach, and boardwalk is occupied with tourists from out of town. But it is a ghost-town, almost, in during the coldest months of the year. But it seems that people who can afford hotel outings do go there to take advantage of the lower cost of hotel rooms and services.
But I drove away from this city knowing that some people find life extremely tough in this beautiful city. The man I met inside that little room is just one of them. They, for some reasons, don’t have anything to fall back to. They ended up in the streets with nothing but dirty clothes and worn shoes. Sometimes people are just so preoccupied with worldly pleasures, they don't have time to care for each other.
As I drove home, I began to imagine this homeless man's evening. When I parked my car upstairs, I didn’t see any homeless person around the exit. He may have been walking around town looking for a place to crash for the night. It is extremely cold. He was probably tired walking around and eventually found the entrance to the garage and went in to spend the day there. I wondered what he ate, and I wonder where he will go next in the morning. Whatever he was doing in the day time and prior to entering that garage door, one thing is true – his anguish touched me and reminded me that yes, it is a wonderful time to celebrate, but be reminded that somewhere, somehow, a man is struggling to live; barely holding on to life.
This is the kinds of instance that made people doubt that God exists, but to me, God does exist, but human beings are just too blind to care for each other. They are consumed by pleasures of this world that life to them is nothing.
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