Different Yet the Same

“Ain’t no pot so crooked, you can’t find a lid to fit.” ~ Author Unknown

Within society, those who have lost a sense of joy, find other ways to fill the void. In doing so, our perception of what is normal becomes distorted. Madness to one person may seem like a safe place to another, while scars can hold a lifetime of stories. What happens then, if someone’s broken shell reaches out and extends love to another person that is different, but at the core, the very same. 

In my previous post, I reference Denver Moore; an inspirational speaker and author. His earlier life included being a convict, homeless, and man of rage. Wielding a baseball bat, he lived on the streets for 22 years. His life story was written into a New York Times Bestseller. The book was co-authored with a well known art dealer, Ron Hall. The story tells of Ron’s late wife, Debra Hall who befriended Denver. Moore found himself going from a life of violent outbursts and sleeping outdoors, to being given Dallas’s prestigious honour, as Philanthropist of the year in 2006. Denver’s chronicles went beyond the hardships he endured. By openly speaking of his struggles and sharing about the bonds of friendship with Ron, their story inspired North America. An estimated $70 million dollars was donated to various causes related to homelessness. Included in his legacy, is a movie based on the book titled: “Same Kind of Different as Me.” 

The timing of watching the film coincided with my own plans. On my birthday, I wanted to be amongst those who each carry their own story of loss, heartache, anger and liberation. When I walk along the streets, I feel a connection to those layered in human trials. I make a point to never avert my gaze, rather I look at those sleeping, panhandling, clinging to the space between. Looking deep into their eyes, I see their hands are no dirtier than mine…just different stains on them. 

After I bid *Susan goodbye, I continue on strolling the sidewalks.  My thoughts soon drift to the polar opposite names referred to the community I call home. From paradise found to a wasteland of sin, I imagine our city as an hour glass, with the misfits of society struggling on the bottom. 

No matter how hard they try, the slippery slope to advance is impeded by the grains of sand that represent their addictions, vices and character flaws; drowning each of them. 
 A quote from the film and novel resonated with me that Denver Moore said:

“When you are precious to God, you are just as important to Satan.” 

Trudging on through the rain, I felt confidant in being able to give away, the jacket held firmly within the bag of love. 

After completing another loop around the downtown core, there were two First Nations men sitting together. Approaching them, I struck up a conversation. Sharing about my daughter, I told them of my purpose in wanting to pass along her jacket. Suddenly the young man on the right of me was emotional, as he nodded his head to show my intentions were genuine. 

His friend spoke up and said, “I have a girlfriend, who only is wearing a sweatshirt. She is at the library, but will be back soon. I could take the jacket and give it to her.” 

 I remarked, “There is something else… inside several pockets are special things I put in the coat. All I ask, is you wait to see what is in them, when your girlfriend gets back.” 

He nodded in agreement. 

“What is her name?” I asked.

*“Lisa”, he said with a smile. 

Standing up the young man received the jacket, as if some ceremonial remembrance was taking place. I showed each of the young men a picture of Shayla on my phone. 

“My daughter should be here with me, but she’s waiting for her momma one day to come home,” I said. 

Walking away, I knew the person who was not even present to receive the jacket, was the one it was meant for.

By now, I was overcome with all that had transpired thus far.  It was late, but I decided to grab a cup of tea. Walking into the mall, I looked down at the Love bag and while I was happy the jacket had been gifted, I was sad to see the bag empty. 

After the purchase of my tea, I wanted to go into The Body Shop. My experience there saw me treated like royalty by an employee named Marcellina or as she stated with a perky grin, “March, just like the month!” 

Her lively nature was the uplift I needed. Plus, her knowledge of every product was incredible. March reminded me of a cross of Amy Schumer and Melissa McCarthy. When I asked what manly scents she had, March led me straight over to the men’s section. What she did next still has me in awe and giggles. Every scent I picked up, March proceeded to conjure up the image of the man who would actually wear it. There were scenarios, hair placement and even how many buttons were opened on the tailored shirts. It was as if she had gone to the secret place of her heart and brought to life a plethora of gentleman. I confessed that I was a sap for the scent of nice cologne. Now, March had raised the bar, immensely! Suddenly, a real human being was in the store and I made note of what he was wearing. Within minutes of serving the young man, he had selected his choice and after paying, he proceeded to leave. March winked at me and whispered, “White Musk” man. 

I looked at the customer walking out. Everything prior to what she had explained in detail, about a man who buys the White Musk cologne, was a perfect match! I was impressed. After helping me in the store, I made a note to let her employer know, how fabulous March’s service is to all customers.

As I walked back to my friend’s car parked at the library, I noticed the two, young, men I had spoken with and given the jacket to. They were now in a different place. Except, with them was the girl…wearing the coat. It took me a moment, as I stood there seeing how it fit her perfectly. Taking a breath in, I walked over to where they were sitting on the concrete. Lisa's boyfriend was happy to my reappearance and introduced me to his girlfriend. I was curious if they had found all the items. Suddenly, one by one, the young man named everything and thanked me. 
In my request to take a picture, I asked first, due to the sensitive nature of some people being on the streets and also cultural reasons. Likewise, I did not want the young girl to feel obligated.

“Would you mind if I take a snapshot of the side of you. I will not use your real name or show your face.” 

Lisa gave a smile and responded, “Yeah sure… it’s no problem.”
Standing up, the silhouette of her frame, reminded me of the importance of  Shayla's roots. While my daughter identified with Aboriginal ancestry, in her heart she knew her lineage was possibly connected to the Shuswap region.   
What mattered in releasing the jacket to someone in need, it freed up in my heart, to love myself more beyond any iniquity I had been carrying. 

After, I hugged the young girl and thanked each of them for showing me kindness and respect for a mother’s request. It made me feel good that instead of my daughter’s jacket hanging in my closet, it was now warming another soul.

By now, all I wanted to do was come home. However, my night was not over…yet.

I stopped into a store to pick up a specific item. As usual, my purpose was diverted by something sparkly. I top with a heart shape of sequins, called me over. I was eyeing the details on it, when I heard a lady ask me if I needed any help. Turning around, I was greeted by a tiny figure in an employee uniform. Her obsidian wisps pulled away from her face, while her large almond eyes drew me in. I smiled in an instant and laughing I replied, “Oh I am not sure, but this pajama top is calling my name.”

The young girl began to chuckle and reaching over she touched the material.

“Oh, it is so soft as well!”

Laughing again, I nodded in agreement.

We began to talk. *Cheryl told me she was originally from China and had been working only a month at the store. She mentioned of her time spent in the USA and how unfriendly she had found people to be.

Looking downward, Cheryl said, “They don’t see me… instead…” her voice tapered off.

I could only imagine the cruelty she suffered, as covering the young girl’s face and body were various, thick, scars. While I wondered what had happened, Cheryl’s gentle presence made you see only beauty thru her kindness. As her gaze met mine again, we both smiled at one another.

It was then the words of Denver Moore popped into my head.

Hmmm, I thought… “Same kind of different as me”.

Cheryl broke the silence with her words,

“You are a nice person who is warm and friendly, she said.”

In that moment, I felt awkward in thanking her, for she deserved to be treated equally with compassion and acceptance in this world.

All of a sudden, our conversation was interrupted by a little boy who was probably eight or nine years old. When Cheryl turned to speak with him, his reaction was not of surprise. Rather, when she bent down to his level, their eyes locked and he politely asked for her help. Waving at me, Cheryl went on her way to make another person’s day wonderful.

I decided to buy the PJ top and once back at the car; I was inundated with all that had occurred on my birthday. Looking at the time, it was 10:50 pm, was I realized there was one thing I had forgotten. Driving to the nearest grocery store, I had 4 minutes to purchase a Jones cream soda. At the store as I reaching over to grab bottle, I saw a card rack and one particular one grabbed my attention. It was bright, with a quote that Shayla once posted on her Facebook. Back in 2011, I was amused in discovering it. 

Later, I would repeat it as one of the many sayings, when giving her Eulogy at the Celebration of Life. Everyone who knew my daughter, also recalled her sense of humour. Nearly 8 years later on the eve of my birthday, as I purchased a Jones soda, the irony hit me. Driving back to my place, I had alot to mull over. 

The beautiful arrangement of flowers that Terry had bought me, welcomed me home. 

Twisting open the cap and reading my 'fortune', produced a huge smile. 

Prosperity and Love are in reach.

After a few sips, I decided to take out PJ top out of my Love bag and cut off the tags. 

Looking for the scissors in the drawer, I glanced up and saw the pendant hanging that my mom had bought me for Christmas. 

It was special, because it had the words that ever since Shayla was a babygirl, I always said: “I Love You to the Moon and Back.”

One Mother’s Day, my daughter gifted me a photograph of us together. On the photograph she had wrote: “I Love You to the Moon and Back.”

What brings me happiness… is my dear friend Judy, who became a grandmother for the first time. She says those words with her own spin on them, about her grandson Odin.

As I went to cut off the tag on my nightshirt, I read the words: Ladies flip sequins.

Due to my long day, I stared at it for a minute, trying to figure out what that meant? Picking up the top, I laid it on my bed and let my hand swipe at the sequins on the fabric. It took a few times, before I realized to my amazement, the images of the moon and stars appearing within the heart. Glancing over at the picture of mother and daughter in the frame, the tears came freely, as I thought of the connection.

Even though she could not spend my birthday with me ...far from the heavens 
I envisioned my babygirl whispering: “Happy Birthday Mom!”

By TL Alton

*Certain names have been changed to protect the identity of the individuals.