Homeless in Heaven

Chapter 1 Late November Eden, Colorado Merl Weishart hefted the lumpy black bag and settled it on his shoulder. About thirty pounds. Even at the current prices for aluminum, oughta be enough for a hot meal. He’d collected soda cans for over a week to fill the bag. With the bite of the north wind ahead of an approaching cold front, a hot meal would be good, almost necessary. Smartest thing would be to buy the food and fix it himself. Still, it would be nice to sit inside at a table to eat for a change. The makeshift stove in his camp cooked, but not very well, and he had no table, much less a chair. Juggling a tin plate on his knees made mealtime awkward. The tent and tarps he’d rigged for his shelter cut the wind some, but from now until spring, warmth was going to be a stranger to him. Since this would be his second winter in the homeless camp straggling along Goldrush Creek, he knew what to expect: cold and more cold. There would be lots of days when all he could do was huddle in his old army sleeping bag and wait for the snow to stop and the blizzard winds to die down. Cold was bad, but wind and getting wet made it worse. A man could freeze. Some did. Several had died in the camp last year. Although he wasn’t sure why, he chose to survive if there was any way he could. Surrender, quitting, giving up, and death were not options. Damned if I know what I’m living for, but life still feels better than death. Maybe someday I’ll figure out why. He settled the bag into an easy balance and started off at a brisk pace. The recycle place down on VanAlwyn Street was a good two miles away, so no use poking along. The sooner he got there, the sooner he’d have a few dollars in his pocket and the means to get that meal.