ralphs

There's this Ralphs in Mission Valley that I visit infrequently. It's not in our neighborhood and the lines are ridiculous, so I only go when I'm in the area and desperate. I can go months between visits, but nearly every time I've shopped there, I've seen the same homeless guy sitting at the same chair at the clearance table. For the past two and a half years.

There he was at his usual table last week, only this time was different because he was eating a microwave dinner. I'd never seen him eating, just staring. I imagined him having to ask a Ralphs employee to microwave it for him, because frozen dinners do not heat themselves, and it made me sad. Sadder than if he'd been eating a sandwich. I wondered if his mom was still alive or if he had children somewhere.

I'd withdrawn cash that afternoon because Girl Scouts were selling cookies outside and Girl Scouts don't take Visa. I wanted to give him a five dollar bill, or another frozen dinner or a couple of boxes of Samoas, but he was just eating in peace, would it be insulting to assume he was after charity? I couldn't decide, so I left.

When you take the strife of this one homeless guy in San Diego times what Japan's going through right now, the world is just too much.