Someone's Daughter, 6/8/13

Last Saturday night (6/8/13) as I was on Pacific Coast Highway in Redondo Beach starting to drive home, I saw a baby faced young homeless woman wandering along with no-place to go. I knew she was homeless as she carried her possessions in bags strapped to her.

As I recall, she stood about 5 feet, 4 inches tall and had what appeared to be blond hair peaking out from under her cap.

Over the years, I've purchased meals for many homeless people as I walked them to restaurants and most of them were hardened by surviving on the streets. This young woman did not have that look, as my thoughts told me "this is someone's daughter."

Every female is someone's daughter, but this young woman's vulnerability got my attention. I circled the block and returned, driving slowly to spot her again and to observe her. It was obvious she had no place to go.

I approached her from the car and softly, so as not to alarm her, asked if she was alright. She said she was. I asked if she was hungry and after an instant's hesitation she said she was. I asked her to meet me at the Subway restaurant about 100 yards away and she did.

There, she made herself comfortable by carefully setting down each of the bags she was carrying at the foot of a table. As we spoke, she told me her name, that she was 20 years old and had attended Redondo Beach high school.

She ordered a six inch sandwich and a soft drink. And as we spoke, I noticed a shyness in her as she generally looked down as we spoke and her voice was at a low decibel.

I wondered what could put a baby faced young woman like this on the streets, her clothes still clean, but I did not ask in order to protect her sense of dignity. My guess is that she has a drug addiction so bad, her parents could no longer stand it and put her out.

But I also surmised that her family is scared to death for her and wondering where she has gone. I treated her as if she was my daughter for the time we were together, and when she received her food and was reseated, I told her that as a customer, she was entitled to be there, in out of the cold.

She seemed thankful. It was time for me to go and there was nothing more I could do for her for I had no more control over her life than her family did.

I wished her well, and now a week later, I continue to do so, with the hope this vulnerable young woman will be safe. Although her family had no way to know it, for the time I was with her, she was safe and she received a decent meal.

Dick