Hard Hat Man

This is a story about a homeless man in my hometown.

We used to go to the mall every weekend

strutting with our heads held high, thinking

how cool it was to be without supervision.

 

As we walked down the isles, fingering the

flimsy clothing and transforming into our

older sisters who we envied for age,

I couldn't help but think of the Hard Hat Man.

 

He popped up everywhere, always with his

shopping cart from Food for Less filled to the brim

with all the belongings he owned in the world.

 

Such a quiet man, his face hidden beneath the

rough whiskers that buried his face.

 

Such an odd mad, always wearing his

Hard Hat and dark brown Trench Coat.

 

Such a timid man, never responding to the

shy greetings I would offer as he sat alone.

 

As I beamed at my best friend, telling her

how beautiful she looked in the all too

expensive dress she was trying on..

 

I thought about Hard Hat Man, and how he

seemed so grateful for what little he had. Yet

here we stood, unable to be satisfied with the

money our parents had graciously handed out.

 

I have never forgotten him, and every once in a

great while I still see him.. slowly walking down

Spartan Way towards the wherever he calls home.