I came to a stop at a traffic light next to the Charles River, just a few blocks from my home, on a beautiful weekend day. I had the windows rolled down, radio blaring, sunglasses on. I was returning from one of my favorite escapes from my family – a quick trip to Frugal Fannie’s (“Brand names for less!”). It had been a successful trip, too. I know the secret to Frugal’s – go fairly regularly, and be looking for nothing in particular. I found a raincoat, a suede skirt, and two pairs of sandals. I was feeling pretty good.
I looked to my right because there was suddenly a very dense stream of pedestrians moving along the sidewalk next to my car and up and over the bridge across the river. Most of them were wearing bright yellow T-shirts, as actual shirts or as headbands or shawls – an odd coincidence. And the majority of them looked happy and chatty.
I remembered in a flash. The MS Walk! Oh, God. I had forgotten about that. I had participated myself in past years, but hadn’t gotten very enthusiastic about it this year for some reason.
As the yellow people passed, I could now see that it said “Fight for a Cure” on their backs. It suddenly struck me that they were all marching in support of finding a cure … for me! How odd. I didn’t even know these people. And like I said, I was feeling pretty good. I had new sandals.
Then, I remembered that two of my aunts had said that they were doing “The Walk” this year for me and my Mom. Double oh, God. I quickly turned my radio down and looked the other way to avoid the possible awkwardness of having them spot me, wave, and then grin their polite grins of disgust, because I was neither walking nor looking particularly needy or devastated.
As I turned to my left, avoid any possible be-yellowed aunts, I came face-to-face with the homeless man always on that corner with his tin can and sign that reads “Sober and homeless. Please help. God Bless.” I gave him a twenty and my best smile.
