The Meaning of Hom

In the busy city you walk around, the moon shining on your face. You’re in a park, you can’t quite make out what exactly is around you, but you can sense it. You feel a soft padding of grass under your shoes, you hear as the wind rustles the leaves of a tree nearby, you smell the fragrant aroma of wild flowers in the air. You look straight ahead, into the foggy distance, where a lone bench sits in solitude, covered by ivy. On the bench, you see the figure of a man sitting, no sleeping on it. His hair is long and messy, his clothes are old and worn. He is covered by a small, ragged blanket, too thin to provide much warmth. Shivering in the cold, night air he sits. A small shopping bag beside him seems to be his only possessions. The man breathes in, and out, trying to make himself comfortable while the wind blows harshly in the cold, frosty air. Soon, the quiet is broken. You hear the distant shouts of a police officer. “No loitering around here Bud!” The policeman, now in your field of vision, points to a sign next to the small fountain that lies behind the bench. “You heard that, Scram!” The man on the bench wakes up, startled and confused. Then quickly, as if this was almost routine, he gathers up his belongings, and hurriedly walks out of view. It is later that night, you have just come from dinner with your friends. Full and content, you walk, in no hurry towards your house. You pass a small coffee shop. You see the bright neon lights of a mall. An empty parking lot you also observe. Only a block more till you arrive home. Suddenly, you bump into a man, sitting out on the street, holding a sign. With a cup beside him, he asks you if you could perhaps spare some change. You see the man shakely pick up his cup, and a small rattling sound can be heard, the clinking of coins against tin. You look into your wallet, but don’t find anything to give the man. You apologize to him and walk hurriedly away. While doing so, you see a small boy and his dad walking in front of you. The voice of the small child, who you can now tell is no older than 5 or 6 rings through your ears. “Daddy, why is there a man on the street?” he says. “Because he doesn't have a place to live.” The father replies softly, heavy with sorrow. “But why not?” the child asks, “Well, it's hard to get a place to live.” “It can be very expensive.” The child, now clearly upset, wails, “But everyone should have a home!” “I know” soothes the father, “I know”. You shed a soft tear as their voices slowly fade into the darkness. One word rattling in your mind all the while. Home. You walk off into the dark night.