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In the middle of the freaking night
wandering the streets of Santa Monica
looking for homeless people |
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when I could be lying in bed watching videos of babies eating lemons
and soldiers reuniting with their dogs? |
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Because I need four more hours
of community service this semester.
That’s why. |
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And
I need them
by tomorrow morning. |
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I shouldn’t have waited
till the very last minute. |
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But isn’t that what
the very last minute is for? |
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I mean, if God hadn’t wanted us to wait until the very last minute |
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he wouldn’t have created it, right? |
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This morning, when I explained
that theory to my Freshman Seminar teacher, she just laughed and said, |
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“Molly, if God hadn’t
wanted us to meet deadlines,
she wouldn’t have created them. |
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And you’ve known for months now
that every student has to complete
their community service before winter break.” |
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Which is why I am out here
freezing my butt off
at eleven thirty at night, |
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with a clipboard and a tally sheet
and a pen that only works
when you wring its neck, |
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roaming the streets
with my faithful dog Pixel
and 250 other volunteers— |
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all of us
helping the city
take its annual homeless count. |
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Which is sort of like
being on a scavenger hunt.
Only much less fun. |
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I mean,
I knew there were people
living on the streets in Santa Monica. You’d have to be blind not to notice them. |
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Though until tonight
I never really focused on them.
In fact, I tried really hard not to focus on them. |
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Whenever I saw someone sleeping in an alley
or picking through a trash can
or trudging along in taped-up shoes,
I looked away and hurried past them. |
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Not because I’m one of those
spoiled self–centered teenage girls
whose idea of unendurable hardship
is having a broken fingernail. |
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But because…
Well, because seeing those people
stirs up all sorts of stuff in me.
Stuff I don’t like to think about … |