I drove my brand new Silverado truck to the liquor store, feeling like I was back again. I noticed before I went in, a small dog, a beagle, attached to a tree outside. I patted him on the head and then I went in. Inside there was a man standing in front of me; in a line that was out the door. It was Election Day, the store had been closed all day. The faces looked more like mine than his. I spoke with him and he told me a familiar tale, one that I had heard before. One of loss and love. He spoke of an accident that took his memory and his job away and literally left him on the streets. There was no sadness in him, only hope and thankfulness. Leaving, he said goodbye to me, he walked out the door and gathered the small dog I had encountered earlier. As he walked across the bridge into the homeless unknown, I could hear my heart beat.
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