Home is……………

A couple of nights ago, I zipped over to a nearby barbecue takeout restaurant to bring home dinner. The place was empty and while I ordered, I somehow ended up hearing about the personal life of the young woman who waited on me at the takeout counter. She told me she has problems with her knees and had been prescribed physical therapy, but has no medical insurance and can’t afford the appointments. She is trying to do exercises on her own. She went on to say not only is she homeless but living in her car, in the parking lot of a nearby cinema. She said it was a step up from the tent where she’d spent the past two weeks. She wasn’t standing on a street corner in town with a cardboard sign. She had a job. She looked healthy, was clean and well spoken. Other than that, I know nothing about her. She could have been telling me a tall tale, looking for sympathy or a handout, she might have a family who is begging her to please return home, she might have simply needed to tell somebody about her situation. I don’t know any of those things. What I do know is that I suddenly felt privileged and my simple barbecue dinner didn’t taste nearly as good as I had hoped it would.