How the Homeless Transformed Me

Fall 2020 — Part 1

After a full tour of the Japanese Friendship Garden in Idaho Falls, I looked for a restroom. I walked towards a large wooden pavilion at the edge of the park, and spotted a white stone block of a structure where a few people filtered in and out. A young man was filling his water bottle, and he caught my eye as he turned.

He was completely covered from head to toe in dark colors amid the midday heat — a long black trench coat, dark jeans, a black bandana for a mask that creeped low into his chest, and a wool beanie hat. As if to accentuate the desert vagabond appearance, his eyes shot straight through the slit of fabric on his face: an intense, icy blue.

That anything could emerge from the layers he was hiding under was a true testament to their brightness.

He waved in my direction as I passed. As I got closer, I noticed there was a warmth and friendliness behind that shocking eye color.

I waved back.

Make the connection

After I left the bathroom, I looked over to the pavilion. Looking more like a boy now, the man sat on a bench among a group of people. Surrounded by backpacks, sleeping bags, food wrappers and rags, I guessed them to be homeless.