Friend to the Homeless Founder, Jacob Folger (above) flies
back to base after a parachute jump. Jacob served
as a Paratrooper in the US Army 82nd Airborne in the early 1980's.
Lucy and I rested on the park bench outside the post office as a young man on two prosthetic legs struggled with his service dog and packages.
Two legs gone. Two. And he was half my age. Bravely, he moved about his vehicle. Lucy and I watched.
I asked him how his dog serves him. He replied, "Emotionally and physically." "Are you a veteran?" I asked him. He said, "Yes. And you?." "Yes." He moved to the other side of the truck and out of sight and I heard his voice again, softly. "Thank you for serving."
My heart felt as though it had fallen as I returned the thanks. Oh my God. Oh my God. I know I could never know where he had been but for a moment, it was as though I knew. And his humbleness to be grateful to me wrenched my heart.
Having been through the military training pushed deep into each and every soldier through and through. I doubt if one soldier could see a fallen soldier and not feel in some way that pain if none other than by being through the training, alone.
It left my heart numb and my mouth dry and with a sweaty chill on my flesh as I watched him drive away with his dog. Both compassion and fear for him was there as I thought of others who I sensed that same feeling all too frequently. And that is of those who are Homeless heading into an icy night with but a flimsy blanket and a bag of tattered belongings.
It really doesn't matter. Whether I have a home or not, I am Homeless. I will always be Homeless.
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