Three years ago, when we lived near the railroad station, I saw one day in the spring a group of homeless people I recognized get off the train carrying duffel bags. Only at the moment did I realize I hadn’t seen them on the streets since the weather had gotten cold. The woman in her thirties or forties with blond hair who talked to herself. The elderly man with a cane that seemed to be made of duct tape. We were gone last year for research, so I haven’t seen them in a long time. I remembered, when it got warm, that I hadn’t seem them in the fall, but that could have easily been because I barely went out. But I wondered if I’d ever see them again.
Sure enough, the old man at least is here. But without his cane.