Evaporated Milk

Four cans of evaporated milk clanged in the pocket of my coat as Elmer the husky and I walked to the street pantry in the neighborhood to deliver the goods.

I had unearthed them from my basement in a cleaning frenzy in anticipation of my father's death and the need to sell his house.

Exactly why cans of evaporated milk rested on shelves in the basement are long lost to my father's memory.

We approached the street pantry. A homeless woman straddling a bicycle was loading up a garbage bag of items from the pantry. A chic ergonomic desk chair was splayed on the sidewalk near the front tire of the bicycle.

She saw me approaching. I said hello. She remarked how handsome Elmer was. I reached into the pocket and came up with the cans of evaporated milk, almost like a damn sheriff drawing down on a gunslinger. Hello Gary Cooper or Matt Dillon!

I asked her if she wanted the cans. She did. I asked her where she was living. She told me a safe rest village two miles away.

She was in her 30s or 40s.

I gave her the evaporated milk. She thanked me. She petted Elmer. I asked about the desk chair,

She said she found it on the street and it was too nice to be left behind.

How she would bicycle home with that chair and a garbage bag full of food items was beyond my comprehension.

I wished her good luck.

Elmer and walked away. After ten yards I turned around and the woman was rigging up the chair by interlocking it through one of the bicycle's handlebars.

So that's how she would do it.