Sleeping inside the bus stop shelter

Back to My life in spaghetti homepage 

Michael Godowitsch

So... Woke up today, spent half an hour struggling with my sheets to get up of bed, seems to me like gravity in my bed can hit sometimes 1 million in the morning. I forgot to have my breakfast, brushed my teeth, got dressed & left the house at 8 sharp. That's almost my everyday routine, except for when I have to get back to the house because I forgot my lunch box inside or my gloves. I headed to the metro station to go to school & suddenly, on my 2 minutes way to the metro, I saw something, something unusual, something I don't really see in my daily routine. Something that devastated me & changed my whole day.

I came closer & here he was, that same old man I used to see 5 years ago when I came to Montreal & that I see now almost every early morning & every late night by the metro station. With his same green jacket, his black old ushanka covering his ears & his black grey shopping cart for old people where I am sure there was never any food nor shopping items. There was only his own items that he keeps with him as he has no home.

He has no home? Why doesn't he have a home? Or what does it make me think he doesn't have any home? Is it the many times I have seen him sleeping inside the metro station? Is it the few times I saw him sleeping inside the bus stop shelter? Is it his smell that doesn't let you approach him by 50 cm? And why did I even try to approach this old man? He could be dangerous but he seemed to me so peaceful. He could be crazy yet I saw him reading the free metro newspaper many mornings now. He could be a thief but I have never even seen him begging for money or food. I've never even seen him eating but once from a potato chips bag. I'm sure he gets help. Where from? Is it enough? He used to sleep like a snail hiding his face in the Quebecer winter cold & his old stick near him.

He was a mystery to me. He was the start point of my day. When I see him I know I got into the metro & I know I can wake up from my sleep mode to focus & get to school. I wanted to know his story, I wanted to hear about his past life. I couldn't. I didn't approach him but few times when he was sleeping so he won't notice me. I had a daily duty to check if he was there when I get off the metro just to make sure he is ok. Why would I? Maybe he won't like it. I never saw him talking to anyone before, even though the metro is so crowded. And why me? I'm sure there was people who helped or tried to help him. I won't be able to do him any good. I wish I could. Although there are many other homeless people in Montreal we see everyday. But imagine you see the same person everyday for more than a year & he looks like in need. Wouldn't he be the most important homeless man in the city? Won't you then feel that he's the most one in need? I even gave him a name. It was Edgard. Sounded matching to his grey white beard. This old filthy man has taken my attention for so long. It might sound ridiculous to many of you. Another homeless man in Montreal. But I made up a story for him in my crazy mind. And he became important to me. My curiosity killed me but I was so hesitant to talk to him.

And I regret it now... I regret it because I see him lying there on the floor. Some people looking at him murmuring things I can't hear. Or maybe I can hear but I am too focused on his face. His face, I never had the chance to really look at it. He has an ugly face, the details are so different from how I imagined, since now the hat is off and he seemed to be bald. His eyes are closed, so I can stare at his face without him noticing. He looks weird. More peaceful than ever. Maybe a little dead too!

Tears burst into my eyes & people were looking at me strangely. People were waiting. Maybe waiting for the police to come. Oh! the police is not here yet. So this is a fresh incident. Maybe he is not dead yet. Maybe someone can help him. But he is dead. And I am crying. No he is not a relative. He is more than that! He is someone who never complained about the cold yet he used to sleep outside. He is someone who never complained about food quality yet he never had a fine table to sit at. He never said "I have nothing to wear tonight" when the closet has no room left, because he never had but one pair of pants and one jacket. He never complained of how many houses he has so far because he had no home to live in. He never complained about not seeing his parents, I'm sure they all left him a long time ago. Oh for God sake, what am I saying? The guy might be raper or a drug addict, yet I never saw but his pity look, sitting by the metro stairs, not even looking at people while passing, not making any sound.

...and then the alarm rang!!! Oh dear! What a nightmare! I am crying for real. It's the second time it happens. Why? Maybe because I am not seeing Edgard anymore in the neighborhood. And my fear that he would be ill or dead has developed and it started giving me these weird nightmares.

And what if he is really ok? And I get to see him again one day. I am not even sure I would have the courage to ask him about his real name. Until then, I wish for many of you to think about only one person in need every time you are about to complain about the "too much" things you are blessed to have.

See you soon...