New Year's Day

It's the first morning of the year. *Cold* morning, even just before 9 a.m. when the sun has had a little time to warm things up. I park my car in the work parking lot, one of the lucky few who gets to be there on New Year's Day. I close the door, grabbing my iPad, lunch, purse and water bottle. Suddenly I hear a loud voice from beyond the wall of the parking lot, "Happy New Year!" I can't see who it is exactly, but I smile and chuckle. Yes, it will be a happy new year, at work, I think sarcastically.

I get to the crosswalk and wait for the light. A black woman in grey sweats walks up to me. "Happy New Year!" she says again, with a smile. I get all shy and half-smile and mumble, "Happy new year."

"Are you going to work?" she asks me.

"Yeah," I respond.

"My name's Elizabeth," she says. I'm still looking at the light, waiting for it to change to the WALK signal.

"Can I have 75 cents?" she asks me. Ah, so this is what it's all about. But why the hell not? I look in my coin purse but don't see any quarters. I end up pulling a dollar out of my wallet. "Here you go," I say. Her eyes light up a little bit and she thanks me. Finally I go on my way.

It always surprises me that homeless people find things to smile about. And I, well, don't. True, I've dealt with some unpleasantness this holiday, getting a lovely Christmas flu and dealing with an erratic work schedule. But I can't deny I've had a rich Christmas, too, materially and otherwise. I literally got hundreds of dollars worth of gifts this year. I spent the holidays surrounded by my sisters and mom and dad and felt warm and comfortable knowing they love me.

It should be enough to put a smile on my face. But it's not. I'm not the one greeting people on the street with a smile on New Year's Day, instead I'm thinking about how unfair life is because I have to go to work when I wish I was in bed. Ugh. Maybe I should be the one thanking Elizabeth, for giving me a new perspective on the year.