A Second Chance

Riding my bicycle this morning, I spotted him.

Prophet.

If you've read the previous blog entry, you'll know that Prophet is my neighborhood homeless friend.  I've been wondering about him a lot lately.  Today, he finally appeared, not at the park where I've normally seen him, but a block away at the corner of 135th and Frederick Douglass.  His back was to me, but I knew it was him.   There he was, that gentle giant, head to toe in black rags and a giant dark blanket around him like a royal cloak.

I couldn't contain myself.  "Prophet!"  I yelled.  He turned and lit up with a smile to match mine.  I stopped my bicycle in front of him and he reached out for my hands.
"I have missed you!" he said.
"I've missed you, too." And I had. "Where have you been?"
"Oh, here and over at mbrrrbbmm."  I didn't get the word, but he gestured across the street.
"I've been looking for you at the park."
"Oh, I will be there later."
"How are you?" I asked.
"Wonderful.  Wonderful!  But you. How are you? How have you been?  Are you well?" He peppered me with questions.
"I'm great, and I'm so glad to see you again." Everything felt lighter.

We stood for a moment smiling, holding each other's hands.  Then Prophet said...

"When you are ready.  Please come."

"I will, I will," I nodded and I really meant it. He nodded back.  I shifted on my bike and got back on the road.

Two hours later, as I rode back uptown, I started thinking of questions I wanted to ask him.  I wanted to hear his story, wanted to hear his thoughts and ideas.  I was ready - finally - to stop and talk. The park appeared in the distance and I surveyed the park benches.  I slowed down and scanned the area.  I searched of Prophet, but there was no sign of him.

I was disappointed but not disheartened.  I'm looking forward to that talk.  We all need something to look forward to.