Process

The 13 through the 19 I went to San Francisco. Home of the "weirdos", the "bums/hobos", the "gays" and the "sinners". And although I saw people taking off their pants in the middle of the street, men high off their mind, people of the same sex holding hands, men wearing dresses and skirts- I also saw people. I saw not just a 'city of sin' but a city of sadness. Where children are afriad to walk down a street in broad daylight because two murders had happened a couple weeks earlier, where the homeless have a better attitude than I do when I don't get the CD I want at Christmas, where all the kids need is love-- nothing else.

This week has been extrodinary for me, and as I come back home to my comfortable home and bed and kitchen full of food-- I wonder if anything that I saw and/or heard will stay with me. Will I remember the constant sireans? Will I remember how there was a locked gait/bars on windows and doors? Will I remember the sound of children laughing and giggling over flat balls and plastic cups instead of softballs? Will I remember that there was a gay pride flag on almost every street because no one cares?

I told James and the team that I will have a better attitude when I came home. I really hope I will. I hope that I remember that there are kids who get beat every night, that there are people who's last meal was two weeks ago, that some kids live right across the street from a house full of a gang, that some people haven't felt a bed in a month because there's no room in any shelters. And as I live in my safe neighborhood, in my warm house, under my covers in my bed- that there are people out there who are less fortunte and I should never pout over a "wrong present" or something meaningless like that.