That day
arrived again – the one day out of the year when mysterious gifts, kind looks,
and favorable acts gravitated towards Lenny. The one day when people remembered
he was a fragmented human being and not the homeless bum of O’Neil Park.
Sometimes
he received clothes, sometimes he received food; people hesitated giving him
money. They thought he was going to buy drugs or alcohol with it despite him
being twenty years sober largely thanks to his military service. Once he was
discharged from the service his world collapsed bit by bit. He couldn’t
readjust to society’s expectations of normalcy. The simplest decisions, like
what type of detergent to buy or when to take the dog out for a walk tested his
resolve. Eventually, his wife had her fill and left, taking the dog with her.
Lenny was thankful they never had children. He couldn’t screw up their lives
any more than he had destroyed his own. When the military built Lenny into a
soldier, he didn’t know how to be anything else. He couldn’t turn it off. He
never did. Within a year, Lenny was living in the streets. The military wouldn’t help him. His mental instability had alienated his remaining friends and family members since he refused to seek any assistance. People didn’t think Lenny was the same person anymore but Lenny believed he was the man he was destined to become. He was a soldier and would be to the day he died. This was the day that people were thankful for Lenny being that soldier.
