A Year Later

We are here now, and though we may be without a home again, we are further along our path and in a better city.

I pass an already homeless woman carrying and pulling her bags, weary from traveling in the heat under burden of heavy clothing. Her hair is up in a wisping bun and her eyes are laced with bedraggled worry.

The differences between she and I are few and many: superficial – like I have showered recently – but the angst runs parallel and blurry.