Homeless Diary, Entry Four

I met Melinda (not her name) “La Peruana,” which means “The Peruvian,” on the very first day I came to feed the homeless. She is a petite woman in her late 60’s by my estimation, though age among the homeless can be deceptive as they age according to what their experiences have been and their health. I was little nervous because I wasn’t sure that anyone would accept what I had to offer, but she was so genuinely grateful. She kept thanking me and telling me how delicious the food was. I would see her several times later, and she would always ask me politely if there was enough for her. There were times she was surrounded by homeless men, and they would always say that she should be fed first before them, because she was the woman. She would graciously accept, but when I was spooning out the food if I had mentioned that it was running low, she would say “I only need a little,” and I knew she was trying to make sure the others got something as well. Melinda said to me that she wanted to help me to feed the homeless, and that she had some noodles put away and she wanted to give them to me, so I could cook them. If she had brought them we never seemed to meet at those times.

She had told me that she had come here from Peru, hence the name “La Peruana,” that she had no children and that she had been a nurse in her country, but here she had worked in nursing homes folding laundry. She asked me if I knew of any work, but there was nothing that I knew of for her. She said she tried to go to work when she could, but that she had pain in her hand from arthritis that made it difficult. She said she didn’t take medication but she would go to church and light a candle and pray to the Blessed Virgin, and she said she had to ask for a pardon because she would light a candle, but didn’t have the money to pay for it. She would tell the Blessed Virgin that she would pay when did have the money, and then she would do so later. She said at times the pain in her hand was very strong, and she showed me how she would raise up her hand to God and ask for the pain to be lifted from her, and she said she would feel the pain ease and go away. She said she had great faith in God, and that if she asked he would heal her.

I have not seen Melinda for some time now, and I was told that she found a place. Though she never gave me the noodles that she had wanted to, she did give me a small container of cocoa powder that I thought she wanted me to cook and bring, but she said ”no, es para ti,” it was for me. I used it this past winter, and every time I see it in the cupboard I think of her.