Good Luck Charm

08.21.07

My walk to work is still the same, and each day, I’ve been looking for my favorite bum. About a week and a half ago, he finally showed up sitting on the bridge just as I expected him. He was sitting on the upper end in the shade, very unlike his character based on the other times I’ve seen him last year. He used to sit at the lower end of the bridge basking in the sun as if in total bliss, welcoming the morning sun rays. Now he didn’t look very bliss and sat in the dark shade. He had cuts and sores all over his face, and he was looking at people as they crossed by with sad, pleading eyes. He didn’t look comfortable and didn’t carry that happy glow he used to, but looked on desperately with a mangled, bruised face. Before he sat in the sun and smiled, just enjoying the early morning, not caring about people around him walking about, but just enjoyed being there, alive, and if someone happen to give him some money, all the better for him. There wasn’t ever active begging that took place. That was what made him special. I knew from this situation that this was a bad sign for him and for me. As I walked pass and onwards I could only imagine what catastrophic events would occur in my life now. I always funnel it to job related themes, but it could hit anywhere, anybody, or anything. I’ve seen him now several times, each time with the same desperate look and cut up face that seems to be healing ever so slowly. No more happy, sunshine basking days anymore, and each morning I’m afraid to walk on that side of the street where I know he’ll be on, and I’m relieved when the lights direct me into the other side of the street. I was going to give him twenty bucks at the end when I left the project and Chicago for good because he represented a bum that was content and alive, feeling free, being carefree, and a symbol that everything in life would be okay. If a bum with hardly anything could be content, and be pleased with just being out in the morning sun’s rays, why couldn’t I. He was my charm, my inspirational hope, my morning strength, my morning coffee, my good luck bum. Now I’m terrified of seeing him.