1. en-ashram-N/G
2. 24-06-2025
4. Tweet

I stumbled out onto the porch to put on my boots. Trixie, my miniature poodle needed to go for her walk or I would have been quite content to stay in where it was cozy and warm.

The January chill seeped through the unheated porch and I shivered as I sat on a bench and put my feet into my cold boots. 

Opening the door, Trixie burst out twirling around in happy circles to know she was going on a walk. She had her red matching sweater and booties on and had just been freshly groomed. I didn’t look as fashionable as she did in my old shabby khaki winter coat I got at the thrift store, and my shaggy grey hair in need of a cut.

The din of traffic whined on the highway nearby. I was so glad I didn’t have to be part of that rat race charging into the city to work. Retirement was wonderful. Widowhood not so much but I was adapting since Jim died. My friends called me often. 

My friend Rosalind had called this morning for her daily check in call.
“Linda, I worry about you. Just making sure you’re alright.” 

I took a breath before speaking so she wouldn’t hear annoyance in my voice. “I appreciate that you care so much but I’m doing okay.” 

We set off on our walk with Trixie yanking me along. For a small dog, she could really yank. We trudged through the freshly fallen snow on the sidewalk that hadn’t been plowed yet. Trixie was so small that often she would jump into in a big snowbank and I’d have to dig her out.

We passed by the park and I saw three homeless men standing around a garbage can with a fire going in it. 

One of them stepped forward.
“Can you spare any change, Ma’am?” He held out his Senator’s toque, a hopeful look on his lined pale face.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I don’t have any money with me.” At least that was true, unlike when similar others asked me for a change at the shopping centre. 

A young chic woman in a big fur coat and fur hat appeared holding a black leather briefcase. Her heavily made-up face creased into a scowl. 
“You men are disgusting! Why don’t you get a job, you lazy bums?” She wrinkled her nose as if they were vermin.

The men just shrugged, probably used to abuse along with the rest of the harshness they endured daily. She didn’t wait around for a response and pushed past me practically knocking me over and almost stepping on poor Trixie, who let out a pitiful whine. She hurried off to her important job. I felt sorry for her coworkers.

I kept on walking with Trixie as she snuffled through the snow in the park, digging up leaves, street salt and other detritus. Suddenly something caught my eye sticking out of the snow. I bent down and pulled it out. To my shock, I realized it was a hundred-dollar bill. Where had it come from? I looked around. There was no way I could track down its owner. 
“Finders Keepers” a childish voice echoed in my head.

I quickly slipped the bill into a pocket and zipped it up to keep it safe. I could do lots with that money. I could go for a nice meal at a restaurant with my friends. I could buy a new outfit at a store instead of thrifting. I could go to a live show at the Arts Centre. I could buy a fancy dog bed for Trixie. She’d love that. Then again, she loved my bed best of all.

I swallowed and shook my head. No, I wouldn’t do that. I knew what I had to do.

I hurried back home with Trixie and then went out in the car by myself.

I returned later to the park laden down with three reusable bags full of sandwiches, packs of juice, cookies and fruit, as well as Tim’s gift cards and warm clothes like knit toques, mitts and socks. I approached the men, my heart beating with fear. What if they didn’t want the stuff? What if they were violent? I hesitated as I drew nearer.
“These are for you,” I said quickly, depositing a bag at each man’s feet and then rushing back to the safety of the path. 

For a moment, they just stared at the bags and didn’t respond. Maybe they didn’t want it. Maybe it embarrassed them. I prepared to take the bags back. 

Finally, the man with the Senators toque leaned down and opened the bag, his craggy face breaking into a toothy grin.
“Thanks, Ma’am and bless you.” The other men nodded their thanks, and I breathed a sigh of relief. A warm feeling washed over me to see the gratitude on their faces.

“I’ll bring you some more another day,” I heard myself say.

[The inspiration for this story is based on my learning about Shawna’s Outreach last fall. 

Shawna runs her own outreach, providing food, clothes and toiletries for homeless people on Ottawa’s streets. She assembles outreach bags compiled of the donations she receives from people at all her donation spots around Ottawa. She takes the bags and other supplies to the people and organizations that help the homeless or those living in poverty. Recently she received a well-deserved Volunteer award at City Hall. 

I heard her speak at the Anglican church in Greely recently which was very uplifting as she is a great speaker and tells lots of wonderful stories about her experiences. She made me want to help her make a difference in these peoples’ lives. Here is the link to her Facebook page if you’d like to know more about what she does and where you can donate. https://www.facebook.com/p/Shawnas-Outreach-Ottawa-100077647275648/ ]

Cathy Graham
Ottawa
June 2025

1. en-ashram-N/G
2. 24-06-2025
4. Tweet