I was walking home last night and passed a homeless woman.  She said “I like your hat”.  I said “thank you”.  She said “I used to love hats, but all mine got stolen”.  So I gave her my hat.

She said she couldn’t take it, but I insisted.  I said it was one of my favourites, it had always been lucky for me, maybe it would bring her luck.

She said her name was Kentucky, but  her real name was Amanda.  She looked so happy with her new hat and so pretty. I gave her $20 and asked her not to spend it on drugs.  (The cynic is me knows that she probably will, but whatever.)

She insisted on giving me something.  A locket.  I didn’t want to take it, but she said “they” would only steal it from her eventually.  I lost a locket once.  It had been my grandmother’s and it meant a lot to me.

I started crying and told her it wasn’t her fault, but a friend of mine had just passed, and I was emotional.  She told me when I could find her if I ever needed her.  She asked what she could do for me!

I asked what it would take to be off the street, to not get robbed all the time.  Would she need to be clean?  She said it’s not that easy, she has a brain aneurysm.  I have no idea if this is true.  I have a little piece of flint coal in my heart, so I always suspect the lie. But I don’t care if it is true.

She kept repeating where I could find her if I needed her.  I said “but they move you on”.  She said, just keeping asking for Kentucky.  They will find me for you, you said.

We both cried.  We hugged. Life, huh?