things to remember me by

I got locked out of my place and somehow, I still had keys to my vehicle. My options were either phone for help or I pray that there's was a spare set somewhere in the glovebox.

I opt for the latter and soon I'm leaning across the seat and yanking all sorts of crap out of the passenger's side. I hear a noise and there's a gaunt man standing over me. He compliments my shirt. I look at him, awaiting the second part of our introduction. Honestly, I'm too preoccupied to act interested so when he asks me for a cigarette instead of money I manage to grab one from the console and hand it to him without skipping a beat in my rummaging. He continues to stand there and proceeds to ask if I have a place he can stay. I make a joke about how right now, I'm in the same boat he is. I'm still horizontally bent over the seats with my feet sticking out the door. He then asks for a lighter and again I toss him one without a second glance. He mumbles something but I'm too worried about getting back inside without a hefty locksmith fee.

I look at the mess I've made and it's a pile of papers and receipts and wrappings that collected during the last few weeks. No keys. I wipe my hands on my jeans and decide I should at least get ride of some of this trash. Scooping up a heap, I shut the door with my hip and look up. The man is using my lighter to smoke crack. It's broad daylight and an addict is getting high next to me as if I didn't exist. Instead of saying something, I continue to the dumpster and dump my garbage. I turn around and the man is drifting into the shadows and branches alongside the adjacent building. I decide not to pursue my borrowed lighter.

The war on drugs is a nice phrase when the drugs aren't in your face. There are spent needles and pipes all around Midtown and the Highlands. They can be found scattered around bushes or near corners, usually adjacent to $600,000 homes. The idea of addiction and abuse and crime is in front of my face and I wonder had I said anything or called the police if it would have made a difference.

I never made a mission statement when I moved to the city. I never drew up a code of conduct or list of morals. I try to be nice to people and be a good neighbor. I encourage and listen and try to point the desperate in the right direction. This city needs more than a hunk of DC pity money or 400 police officers. It needs more than Shirley's quick fixes.

A few nights later I came outside and noticed someone had left a little gift on top of the mailbox. So nice to know your neighbors are thinking of you.