December 24, 2015: Grimy hands and toothless grins … belongings in a shopping cart. Jackets not quite warm enough for a night like this. Beautiful voices coming from lined, grizzled faces, singing Christmas carols from memory. The rose … given to the volunteers by a young woman with beautiful, vibrant blue hair. What are their stories? What brought them here?
“I don’t eat ham, but may I have extra potatoes? I love potatoes.” “Are you serving cookies tonight?” “Can I take some fruit to go?”
My dad volunteers at Dinner Bell every week, and my mom is his frequent partner. This is the first night I’ve joined them. I started the day feeling nostalgic and melancholy for the faded traditions with my now-grown boy. Tonight, I feel humbled and grateful as I climb in to my warm bed. And I think I have a new tradition. Merry Christmas!