Times are hard for everyone, snowmen included.
On my drive home from work, I usually take the same exit on the way to the cafe and my afternoon coffee with my father. The same man is always there, holding his cardboard sign, relying on the kindness of strangers to open their pocketbooks and hand a few bills out of their car windows.
Sometimes I'm a kind stranger, but most of the time I smile and wave, silently wishing him better luck. Some days I can't meet his eyes.
For the last few weeks the man hasn't been there, and now that I write this, I realize I haven't seen anyone standing on street corners or sidewalks, anywhere, holding signs. Perhaps it's too cold, or too disheartening. I hope their luck changed.
Over the last few months, I've noticed that the verbiage on the signs has changed. Instead of the usual messages: stranded,need help, the signs read, lost my job, need help; living in my car, need help; disabled vet, need help. And you know it's really bad when young people and women are out there holding signs.
On my way home last week, instead of the man, there was a snowman holding a sign. I have no idea who made him. Perhaps the man. I was grateful for the moment of levity the snowman provided. His sign read: I feel naked, need help.
I really hope the man found help, secured a job, found whatever he needed. I hope he never has to stand at the exit with his sign and ask for change, ever again.
Over the weekend, the snowman melted.
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