We went to Denver this week, and it has grown. Leaving cold gusty winds in Cheyenne and arriving to sunny, sixty degree weather in Colorado made me homesick.
So many changes in the city, among them the homeless, seeking temporary refuge between the outside pillars of the Denver Public Library. We went to the art museum, the mint, and in between, ate lunch and rested in the library. After our day of touring was finished, we again took respite in the library, enjoying coffee before the long trip home. Using the restroom of course, the handicapped stall was being used. As I waited I saw a tall thin young woman enter. She had luminescent white skin and a thatch of black short hair. Her eyes were wide and sunken, and all of her belongings were layered on her person. She glanced back almost as if expecting me to make some sort of bad comment, but of course I didn’t. I felt immediately concerned because I am a grandmother of three young women around her age.
As we left the library to get in our nice warm car, we noticed more people in similar fashioned outfits enter the library. It closes at ten pm. I wonder what type of courage it takes to leave the safety of this establishment at ten at night to spend the night on the street.