In the heat, the days just seem so stretched out, long and lazy, like ribbon rolled out from a slow spool. Being out here makes the hours crawl so slowly, taking their sweet old time. Rules are, shelter is closed from 8 to 5, so in between those hours, she wanders and waits, sits on church steps for a spell, then resumes her walking. Checks her post office box, sits outside the Starbucks for a while; they don’t mind or make her leave like some of the places in the neighborhood. From time to time, one of those young people even brings her out a cup of ice water, asking if she's thirsty.

And of course she is, it’s hotter than Hades! And although she tries to stay in the shade as much as possible, the heat still wraps her up like a blanket, absorbing into her ebony skin. She dabs the sweat from her head with a brown paper napkin. Sitting there reading her Bible, she falls in and out of a nap, resting her chin on her large and ample bosom, like a pillow she carries everywhere. It’s never her intention, of course, to fall asleep reading the word of God. She trusts the Lord to not be insulted, as He surely knows the contents of her heart, and she has prayed so hard to be pure and right, even in these most despairing of circumstances.

Of all the things she misses from before, she misses the children most of all. Back when she had the apartment, she would sit on the stoop and watch them in the parking lot, playing, yelling and carrying on, God's blessed little children, running here and there, kicking around balls and whatnot. Although she had never had chldren of her own, or perhaps because of that, she was fond of them. Sometimes they'd yell and wave to her, their voices singing sweetly "Hi-Ya-Miss-Rib-bon..." And she'd wave back smiling, hoping maybe one or two of them would take a break from playing and come sit and talk for a short spell, as they sometimes would. She always kept small barrels of five-for-a-dollar fruit punch from Fiesta in the fridge, just in case, cold and ready.

Little Ray-Ray was one of her favorites from the parking lot. His daddy was incarcerated and Little Ray-Ray missed him. Although he never said so in those particular words, she knew he must. Having had a daddy herself that was mostly incarcerated, she knew what it felt like to miss someone. Very clearly, Little Ray-Ray’s mama was up to no good, but the boy never seemed to notice or care much about the men coming and going out of their apartment. He was six, and she knew that being six allowed such blissful ignorance.

But good Lord, those days were a long time ago. And life had changed so much since then, so very much. But praise God, she was alive, and even on a sweltering day like today, though she may be downtrodden and wayworn for the time being, she served a mighty God. And as she considered the lilies of the field, as scripture instructed, she knew that if her heavenly Father went through the trouble of clothing each and every lily, surely he'd watch over her.