Della’s Walk Home

By Janny Castillo

Based on a true story

Three blocks from Telegraph Avenue, the pain in her knees became excruciating. As if living on the streets was not hard enough, arthritis had set in her bones, the constant cold had seeped into her marrow and now chronic pain has become an integral part of life. She is 56 years old but felt 70, sometimes the pain was so severe that she could not walk; she had to rely on friends to bring her food. Lots of times she just went hungry, those were really bad days.

Today was a good day, she had been able to walk, still in pain but it was the dull, throbbing kind that allowed some mobility. She was able to walk the 9 blocks to the drop in center for coffee and a shower and then the 7 blocks to her doctor’s appointment and then the 6 blocks to the pharmacy. On the way back to her cart, the deli manager waved her over and gave her two left over sandwiches. She smelled the pastrami as she tucked them carefully in her coat.

Della knew she had over done it by the way her body felt. The medication made her groggy but did not reduce the pain. She knew the only relief would be to stop walking and lay down.

Della walked slightly bent, head down; every painful step brought her closer to her cart. She left it hidden behind a stairway in a garage just off of Telegraph and Durant. Her cart was her home; it held her clothes, her shoes and socks, her important papers, her books and her beloved homeless babies. If she could, she would have it with her all the time but pushing the cart all day would worsen her condition significantly.

As she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, her mind focused on getting to a warm place to curl up and lay down. Last week, she sacrificed and bought new blankets from ROSS, a green one and a blue one. They were hidden under her clothes in her cart. The thought of getting under her blankets kept her going. The thought of seeing her homeless babies made her smile.

Two more blocks, two long blocks. She almost missed the little arm poking out from a box full of clothes lying on the sidewalk. People leave stuff on the streets all of the time. They leave furniture, TV’s, sofas, clothes, and books but when she sees one of her babies, it saddens her deeply. She reaches into the box and pulls out the little brown teddy bear. The vest he wore had seen better days but he was in good condition, no tears in his fur, both eyes intact. Della thought he was beautiful and would have adopted him no matter what he looked like.

She calls them her stuffies, short for stuffed animals, there were 68 in all. She keeps them in a large bag in her cart. When she can spare it, she takes them to the wash house and gives everyone a bath. That’s hard to do on $382 a month. Della named them all and loves them dearly. They keep her sane living on the streets. Having them to take care of keeps hope alive, and keeping hope alive was crucial when the world is so cold and empty. She brushes the dust off of the newly named Mr. Smiley and tucks him next to her sandwiches.

She can see the garage now, just a little bit further. She wants so much to put this day to rest. She painfully walks toward the stairway; right away she notices that something is wrong, she should have seen it by now. Her heart begins to race with fear. “Oh, no! Not again!” She yells.

The stairway is empty, her cart is gone. The only thing left was Tigger; one of her stuffies. He must have fallen out of the bag as they moved her cart away. For the third time in less than 6 months, her cart was gone. Her life was gone. She pulls Tigger into her arms and falls down crying, angry and hurt.

STREET SPIRIT
1515 Webster St,#303
Oakland, CA 94612Phone: (510) 238-8080, ext. 303
email: spirit@afsc.org

© 2002-2006 STREET SPIRIT. All rights reserved. - Published by American Friends Service Committee