Join me during the month of April as I blog through the alphabet. My theme will be What’s In A Name. I will attempt to write up a short fictional character sketch beginning with a different letter of the alphabet each day. Remember that a place can also be a character.
Luda
I had been to this food distribution site a number of times. It was run by an organization that collected donations from the local events venues and from the cafeterias of local corporations and from grocery stores. It was all good food, it just hadn’t been sold at the end of the day. It was collected by volunteers then repackaged and distributed to those who needed food. I had been to this site, an apartment complex, and had seen one woman who spoke with a very strong accent. I could not place it because I’m just not good with accents, but I guessed it might be Polish. The woman seemed kind of bossy and very aggressive. I had stayed away from her in the past.
On this particular day, it was pouring rain and the group waiting for the food distribution truck was gathered under a fairly small overhead shelter instead of out in the courtyard where they usually gathered. There were a few homeless people that had joined the group since the last time I had been there to get food. One of the men was chatting away with the woman I had thought was Polish. I overheard them talking, and because I am one of those people that joins in conversations, I joined in theirs. The man told of having been homeless for over two years because he had been illegally evicted. The woman asked where he slept and he said wherever he could lay his head. He mentioned being hungry and she asked him if he was hungry at that moment. He answered that he was. I wished I had food in the car so I could give it to him. I usually have something in there but I had cleaned out the car so I had nothing to offer him. The Polish woman disappeared and came back a few minutes later. She lives in that building. She came out with a cup of hot soup and some bread for the man. He was so grateful and I was very thankful that she had done that. I even thanked her for doing that.
After a few minutes of talking to her, I learned that she was Russian and her name was Luda. The soup she had brought out was her very own homemade borscht and the bread that she had baked herself. She lived in that building with her six children! She grew up in a family of twelve children so she said she knew what it is like to be cold and hungry. I learned a lot about her in that short time and I was glad that I had joined the conversation. If I go back again, I will be more friendly to Luda and I will be sure to always have something I can offer to those that might be hungry. I will also remember to always give people the benefit of the doubt; things are not always what they seem, nor are people.
Wasted Days And Wasted Nights 
[…] Luda […]
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