Eyes and Ears

I don't look like a particularly classy, together kind of person. I'm eternally late for work, even though I started catching the early train and have twenty minutes to do a seven minute walk. I rarely brush my hair and I probably should, considering how long and wild it goes, but it never seems to be overly important to me. I skip down the street to work, I high five the construction workers, I stop every morning and chat to my favourite homeless guy, who I affectionately refer to as Dumbledore.

Dumbledore and I have a lovely relationship. Most days I bring him an apple or a juice box or just some coins, and in exchange, he'll give me a trinket he found or tell me some hilarious story about things he sees around the city. He always gives me some lovely compliment about my hair or how green my eyes are in the morning light or how I smell like sunshine. For about three days last week I didn't see him, and I was worried sick that he'd died, but when he returned to his stoop, he informed me that he'd been adventuring.

Initially, I was kind to him because I was worried about being attacked in the city, and I figured that if I was nice to Dumbledore, he'd turn into a superhero and save my life one day. Then, I had a thought that maybe he was magic (hence the Dumbledore) and if I gave him things, he'd give me a unicorn. Now, I just like him because he makes me happy in the mornings, and refers to My Gentlemen Caller as 'that long haired lout with Popeye arms.'

Anyway, this afternoon as I was leaving work after a brutal asthma attack, Dumbledore was sitting at his usual spot, chatting to the construction workers. "Hey Dumbledore." I say hoarsely as I walk past, clutching my Ventolin tightly. "Good morning, Kitten." He replies, holding out his hand with a plastic helicopter toy on it. I like that he says good morning or good evening whenever he likes, he says sometimes it feels like morning in the afternoon, and he trusts his instincts more than some clock. I take the helicopter and give him a Subway cookie that I got with my lunch, and he stares at me carefully before saying "Breathe easy, little kitten." I show him my Ventolin and inform him that I would be when it kicks in, and he kind of shrugs it off and looks at me knowingly. Instead of shrugging back at him, and leaving to my train as per usual, I stop and sit next to him for a change. Things look different from Dumbledore's stoop.

Maybe it's because we're lower than everyone else, maybe it was because we had nowhere to be in the immediate future, but on the stoop, I could breathe easier. I didn't care that people were staring at the homeless guy and the tangle-haired girl on the stoop, I just liked that someone who paid no heed to impressing others, or making others prove themselves, would let me into his little world of peace.

A lot of people look at Dumbledore like a parasite, like the scum of society, like just another schitzophrenic soul wandering the streets barefoot. He may be, I can't say that something is right or wrong. But to me, he's a friend with a different view of the world, that maybe I can learn from.