Wrong Place Right Time


I’d taken the bus across town transferred to another and then arrived an hour ahead of my appointment. The lines were always long and being late only made it worse. I knew the routine, even though I hated it.

I pushed open the double doors and scanned the sea of faces now staring at me. We seemed to check one another out, seeing if we really deserved food stamps. At least that’s what I was thinking. All the chairs were taken, so I leaned against the wall.
 
The huge clock above my head ticked annoyingly as I watched people file up to the cubicles to receive their monthly allotment. Children played on the floor while moms or dads thumbed through the old magazines. I had envisioned many things about college, but welfare hadn’t been one of them. Each month I pledged that I’d somehow make more money. 

I pulled out some homework and waited my turn. In the muffled background, I heard my name. I looked around, but the voice didn’t come from the counter. A woman my age was smiling a bit tentatively at me. It took a few seconds of mental rewinding …clear back to the fifth grade. Denise.

She had been new to my school and we'd quickly become good friends. We both struggled academically. Somehow her happy-go-lucky spirit when she got another ‘D’ made me feel better about my poor grades. Denise made no excuses though—and she always claimed that next time we’d do better. 

By mid-school year she was right. I was doing better. By the end of fifth grade, I was getting mostly A’s. Denise always celebrated my success even though her grades remained low. I worried about sixth grade, and Denise said, “You'll be okay, you know how to make it now." She moved away and we hadn’t seen one another until now…. in a welfare office.

We stepped outside into the cloudy fall day.  It was easy to pick up where we left off—she had continued to bounce from school to school—following her army family.  Now we were both struggling young adults. 


But for a brief time we were two young girls at recess, reassuring one another that next time we’d do better. I told her I didn’t like having to get food stamps. She assured me I wouldn’t need them long and she was right.

I never saw Denise again. I've thought about her sometimes—when I faced job or financial struggles. "You’ll be okay, you know how to make it now."  Those words made me feel better in the fifth grade—and again years later outside a welfare office. Thanks, Denise. It's a good reminder. Sometimes the words of a friend come at the wrong place but at just the right time.
 


Popular posts from this blog

Counting the Cost

Image
Something big is missing in this photo. Let me explain. Here in my hometown, the Lower Elwha Klallam Tribe prepared a parcel of land for a new hotel. Plenty of planning and architectural designs were evaluated. A gemstone of a hotel would be built across from the waterfront—a beautiful, restful place welcoming travelers. A true four-star facility.   They cleared the aging brick structures that had been fading away between Front Street and Railroad Avenue. Then the pandemic hit, shortages of labor and supplies, add in the costly inflation that followed. Everything stopped.   But this is what I admire about the Elwha Tribe: they have counted the cost. They didn’t want to move forward and take on tremendous debt. They would rather move slowly and be financially ready, rather than begin building and then letting it sit unfinished.   Counting the cost is something I should have done earlier in life when I didn’t know what high interest rates would do to our farming cost...
Read more

Summertime Music

Image
During the summer months, in an outside seating area, a delightfully painted piano sits with a sign that says, “Play me”.   It was just before 8 pm as I walked past the piano. My bus would be arriving soon, and I still have another ten minutes to walk before reaching my bus stop. But no one is around. It’s a beautiful warm evening. I pulled out the piano bench and sat down. The sun was behind me, and the piano keys reflected its glow. I had no music in front of me, only the songs within me. Notes drifted into the air.  In those brief moments, the magic of music and summer came together. Isn’t that how it is? Summertime music has a way of lingering in our minds and lasting a lifetime. As I stood and grabbed my things, I heard distant clapping—I guess I wasn’t alone, after all.
Read more

Planting Good Seeds

Image
Harvest will always depend on what we plant and how well we care for our crop.    Looking over my seed packets, I notice they’re different than the ones I planted before. One package is called Word seeds. The directions say that each of my words is a seed, so it cautions me to think before I speak. Harsh words don’t produce sweet, nourishing fruit. These seeds will require thoughtful care in the garden. I see some Volunteer seeds. Those extra hours I tend to fritter away are going to be planted in a useful project.   It looks like time isn’t wasted in this garden plot. Next are some Love seeds—the directions are interesting: get up each day and love others. No specifics are given—just do something for someone every day. The seed package shows pictures of smiling faces. I smile back. As I’m ready to head to the garden with my seeds, a package falls to the ground. I open it. Inside are the tiniest seeds I’ve ever seen—but the directions s...
Read more