Just As I Promised; The First Chapter of My Book *Finding New Life*
Nothing can soften the pain of falling into homelessness.
Chapter One
4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, because you will be with me; Psalm 23
Criiiii BLAM!
I heard a loud impact.
I began to see people with desperate faces and looking at me with guilt.
It seemed that someone was being taken in an ambulance, and I heard the sirens screaming through the streets.
My heart was racing the more things I saw, and I started to feel a great pain in my chest.
Suddenly, I saw my children's faces behind the exit door of my apartment. With their round and sad eyes, they told me, “Daddy, don't go away. Do not leave us."
An intense light blinded me, and I felt like I was in a car accident.
My heart was pounding with more intensity until, with a scream, I managed to wake up from the nightmare that had haunted me all this time.
A blinding light made my head pulse painfully with the rhythm of my heart. Murmurs and complaints filled the air as I tried to get up. The only thing separating me from the ground was a blue hospital mat on a metal frame.
“Five in the morning,” a voice shouted, “It's time to hand over the blankets.”
Nothing better could have happened at that early hour when the cold and sleep hit harder, but the confusion was such that I did not know where I was. I didn't even remember how I had gotten to that place. There was a commotion heading towards the bathroom. Some were getting in the way of others, but all with the same hated countenance.
My stomach was a mess; I had nausea and pain from the effects of alcohol sickness. Staggering, I struggled to get to the bathroom to drink water, but everything was as busy as the main streets of Boston. Some shaved while others waited to bathe with a towel in hand and a little bar of soap (Marriott Hotel). The metal doors of the toilets reflected imprisonment, and some did not have locks—which made me feel uncomfortable when I realized that someone was stalking my back. Notice that some were carrying a chair to put their belongings inside the bathtub, possibly to protect their only belongings.
Upon leaving the main room, I moved a door curtain, and a line of individuals circled the dining room tables to receive a cup of coffee. In the half-dark environment, It felt like a funeral home. I was desperately waiting for dawn to leave that place.
At the first rays of the sun, I quietly left the Shelter with the anxiety of finding the first drink of liquor. I could feel the sun's warmth on my haggard face at seven in the morning. Around the place, in the back, were abandoned train tracks that, with their silence, accompanied the loneliness of the homeless people looking for a place to rest. There was nothing else to do in this life of abandonment and disappointment.
The little birds announced spring by dancing in theatrical choreography in the air while the wild animals ran around playfully. The sun's rays crossed the bushes on the sides of the tracks until they warmly touched the ground. It seemed like I was witnessing a wild, natural orchestra.
The hangover that made me shiver seemed to sharpen my sensitive nerves, administering an exaggerated sense of sadness. Everything around me seemed to continue its ordinary course: the animals, the murmur of the wind, and the cars passing in front of the Shelter—but, inside of me, I felt a total disconnection.
I had only been homeless for three months and had already lost all my front teeth due to a fall under intoxication. What a disappointment! I was entering the environment, and my shame had already surpassed my intentions that this would be a relapse and that I would soon find a solution. But the more I moved, the deeper I sank, like sinking into the quicksand of homelessness and addiction.
The more chapters weave together, the more you will be amazed at the human ability to fall and get back up when our strength emanates from the desperation of our failures.
These chapters will be part of my manuscript and will still need to go through an expert editor. Although I must use my capacity as a voracious editor, a couple more glances wouldn't hurt to help me find structural coherence that makes sense throughout the chapters.
This is the experience that I want to share step by step as my beloved book comes to life.
Stay tuned; if you are brilliant, you can appreciate the process and progress of writing a book—even under pressure and expectations.
I thank you for your patience, and although I am not perfect, I will try to remain faithful to completing my goal.
If you know someone going through emotional problems who lacks control over addictive substances, that person may be on the brink of losing their home and falling into the abyss of homelessness and addictions. Please call a helpline.
We are still in time to redirect our path as humanity.
For more articles, visit my blog at carlosjeronimo.com or Quora Space.