Member-only story
What Do You Do When You See a Homeless Veteran?
He was sitting against the concrete barrier surrounded by empty cigarette packages. He didn’t seem dirty, just depressed, as he stared blankly as the side of my just-parked car in the dark of the restaurant parking garage.
I’ve seen that look before. It used to be called shell shock.
Rather than walk by, I approached him.
“You all right?”
He barely registered my face. Swiftly, I opened my passenger side door, took out my two apples and handed them to him.
His eyes sad, he mouthed, “I can’t.” Showed me his upper teeth, all gone.
I tossed the apples back into my car and rummaged around for something else, that I had just put in the console the day before.
Six packages of Justin’s Cashew Butter, maple-flavored. Soft, easy to eat, fast protein and fats. Just the thing. Or so I hoped.
I squatted next to the man, who was young. Possibly in his thirties. Tapped him on the arm. As he looked up at me, I removed my upper denture. My teeth look like that, too. He looked in my eyes for the first time, registering me as a fellow human. Just…a fellow human. One who might have also known some pain.