The chair was comfortable.
The fire crackled as if it was real, the natural gas flames were almost as nice as the real flames she remembered from her childhood, a million years ago.
A book lay across her lap, the words too much to read while she soaked up the atmosphere and warmth of the room.
She knew what was in store for her too soon.
This place was quiet tonight, the people that had bustled about earlier were mostly gone now and through the windows, she could feel the darkness of the night. This time of year, the nights lasted forever, and the days were all-too short.
Just a few more moments, she wished there was more time.
Too soon the announcement came, the library would be closing in five minutes. Five minutes. She wanted to cry.
She considered trying to find a corner where no one would notice her. She had heard of people doing that, but when she had tried it the last time it hadn’t ended well. The memory of being forcibly dragged out of the washroom of a building that ironically housed a local charity was embarrassing and frightening. The stern warning from the police that hiding in a building after it was closed was trespassing and next time she would be charged and maybe thrown in jail. All she had wanted was to stay warm, that night had been minus twenty degrees, and she had already seen people frostbitten in temperatures warmer than that.
She shuttered, how had this happened to her?
She had graduated from high school and had been a good student, but some bad choices with men and some bad luck had left her with few options. She had taken that retail job temporarily and kept it for more than twenty years, always meaning to do something else, but never seemed to catch a break.
She had worked hard and made the best of the situation. The pay wasn’t great, but she seldom missed any time, her apartment wasn’t fancy, but she paid her taxes and bills. Then her rent started to increase, and she tried as hard as she could.
There was assistance available, but she made too much money to qualify for the programs.
When she asked for even a cost-of-living increase, her boss said as a small business they could not afford to pay more. Finally, when she couldn’t afford food, she swallowed her pride and went to the food bank. Although she had heard it was better now, that first time was horrible. The questions, the requirement to “prove” she had been poor enough had been so degrading. Then never having been to a food bank before she was surprised to only get enough food for a few days. When she asked for more, she was told she couldn’t come back until the following month. Somehow, she had managed to stretch it twice as long, but still – it was not enough.
She had heard from a friend that there was a soup kitchen. The church organization did meals a few times a week. They did not ask any questions and the meals were warm and nutritious and which helped. Over time the food bank stopped asking so many questions, and although she was still embarrassed to go, she was at least managing.
She remembered putting almost 80% of her income toward rent. She had done a decent job keeping up appearances at work, but her clothes were ever seldom new, mostly things she found second-hand or gifts from friends. She somehow managed.
Then there was that horrible week.
Her landlord had raised the rent again. A few days later when she arrived at work, she found the door locked and a sign in the window saying the business was closed. She remembered sitting on the ground and crying.
Her landlord was sympathetic but told her that she was going to have to move. She visited local charities and government offices. She was told she would qualify for employment insurance but just the minimum. The next few months were a blur of selling what she could of her things and using the last of her savings to keep her apartment. All through that time, she could barely think straight, she worried constantly and slept less and less. She tried applying for different jobs, and they were polite, but she was never the kind of person they were looking for.
One day her landlord knocked on her door early in the morning. Groggily she had answered wearing her pj’s. He said she had to move out today or he was changing the locks. She begged him to let her stay, that she would do anything.
He had let her stay for two months but the price he had demanded was too embarrassing to mention. At first, it was just once, by the second week he demanded payment three times, and by the end of the second month, he expected payment daily. When she refused the last time when she came home from the food bank all her belongings were in cardboard boxes on the sidewalk.
Something in her just snapped. She could not remember much, she knew she had tried to carry what she could, but there was too much. What she did carry away became less and less with each passing day. That first night she slept with friends on a couch, they tried to help but even that did not last for long. It wasn’t long before she was sleeping outside. The first night she had slept outside was the worst night of her life.
She barely slept; she was so afraid. She had heard stories of women being raped or robbed. Over the next few weeks, the few things she had left were stolen. The local shelter tried to help but they were overwhelmed and soon she was just one more person they struggled to help. She was grateful for the help but they were still only open until 11 pm.
The daytime was better, but she felt invisible, people looked away when they saw her. She did her best to stay clean, but she knew she was falling behind. She had been robbed again; fortunately, the local charities did a good job replacing things, but it was a constant struggle.
Even the most basic of human functions was a challenge. After the shelter closed at 11 pm, her community had no public washrooms for people like her experiencing homelessness. She felt like an animal having to find places to relieve herself. The stigma and shame had gotten to the point where she barely looked at herself anymore and consciously avoided places where people might know her.
She had rediscovered the library by chance one day. Someone at the shelter who was helping her with getting her identification back had suggested going there. She tried it, there were a few stares but mostly nobody said anything. The staff was friendly, and she could read and get warm. Most importantly, for a few hours each day, she felt she was safe.
Hope was not a word that she used anymore. Long-term planning for her only extended for a few hours to her next meal, to avoiding theft or assault, and hopefully finding a safe place to sleep for a few hours. Somehow, she had managed not to get hooked on drugs but many of the people she knew were. She had lasted longer than she had ever imagined.
An outreach worker had approached her at a drop-in center, and she had accepted their help and she was on the list for housing. The person, a case worker had said the waiting list was really long, but there was a chance. It seemed like an impossible dream at this point, to her, even her former life seemed so long ago it was like it was someone else’s memory.
She almost jumped when the announcement came again. The library was closing. On the way out the door, one of the staff wished her Merry Christmas, a simple gesture meant to make her feel better, but it had the opposite effect. The darkness and the cold beckoned as she walked out onto the street …
The woman in this story is fictional but her reality isn’t. Homelessness affects far more people in our communities than anyone realizes. Few people choose “living rough” but most do not. Many of the people experiencing homeliness would surprise you. There are people of all ages from seniors to children. Most are scared and vulnerable. Many have health issues. They could be anyone, your friends, neighbors, family, or even someone like you. The streets in our communities are dangerous even in the best towns and cities. Resources and support are not sufficient. The housing promised by successive governments has been too little or not geared to income.
What can we do? Become aware.
Make your politicians and leaders aware that you care about people who have fallen through the cracks. Support and learn about living wages, universal basic incomes, and the importance of full-time jobs with benefits. Be aware of human trafficking, and the lack of public supports like the lack of public washrooms that are available 24 hours a day. Help fight for better benefits for those people on welfare and disability pensions. Help with band-aid programs like supporting food banks and meal programs, but insist to our leaders the need to address poverty and the lack of affordable and safe housing.
Please learn and help more.
Paul.