Scene Setting - Common Homeless

It’s just after 2 o’clock, on a surprisingly sunny January afternoon. A young mother, roughly 26 or so, pushes a stroller carrying what appears to be her child, through the Boston Common. She curses herself, and mutters a varied collection of four letter words her young child does not yet understand, as she struggles rigorously to force the cart through the semi-frozen slush of a recent January snowfall. Looking up only once, she quickly ignores the emaciated elderly woman watching from a bench no more than ten feet from her. Little does the mother know, she is wading through this woman’s home.

Directly adjacent to Beacon Hill, known as one of the most expensive and lucrative living locales the city has to offer, the Boston Common has served as a refuge for the homeless population of Boston for several decades. During the warmer months, the park offers shade and space beneath ancient trees, and room to roam through open grass quads. Yet, when winter comes, the trees lose their leaves and the Commons are covered in a thick coating of snow, which perpetually builds till around mid-March. But when this time arrives, and the Commons no longer offer possible shelter, where and how do the homeless survive?

Before I even enter the park, I am confronted by an older African American woman. As she approaches me, the deep scars and blemishes across her face immediately reveal the rough past she has had. A thin, blue jacket covers her upper body, and makes me shake just at the thought of how cold she must be. “Excuse me, sir,” she whispers lowly through a mouth of yellow teeth, and holes where past ones have lived, “I’m just trying to get a meal, anything really would be a tremendously help.” I pull a single one dollar bill from my wallet, knowing it means more to her than it ever could to me. She clasps her two bare hands together around the dollar, repeating “Bless you, sir,” as I walk deeper into the Common. Swiftly, she grabs a hold of the small wire cart beside her and tugs it along, dragging her few remaining belongings to her next stop. My only hope is that she does indeed find some sort of nourishment with that money.