The Daisy Forest

The graveyard these past weeks has been full of white daisies. I call them Shasta daisies, but others call them oxeye daisies, and there are likely other names. I have loved that the people who mow between the graves have left the flowers standing until the last possible moment, a white mini forest.

My young friend Cloud (well, that’s not her real name, but she has one of those momma was a hippie nature names) has been sleeping in the daisy forest. They are tall enough to hide her from easy view, and in the middle of that tossing, blossoming wave of bloom there are a few nice concrete graves, good for putting your blanket on, or your pile of cardboard. It’s one of the safer places to be a woman alone, with no resources. At least for the moment.

Cloud reminds me of my latest cat, Smudgie. It took a long time to coax Smudgie into our shop; she preferred to stay out of reach in the top of the ancient plum tree, even through the storms of winter. She is a beautiful cat, but still easily alarmed, though now she waits for treats and likes to supervise my typing, and loves to cuddle Champ the pitbull. The key for Smudgie was never insisting, never intruding, always being ready to step back and start again. And again.

Cloud’s friend, who is in jail at the moment, told me a few months ago that Cloud was pregnant. I asked him to have her come see me, so we could talk. He said she was crying in their camp,  not wanting another baby taken by  the authorities. I told him I’d help her, but there was a lot to be done. Authorities do not look kindly on young women living on the street. Especially young women with mental health issues and drug issues who end up in jail a lot. But I told him…who knows, we can try.

Cloud didn’t come in. I’d see her from a distance. I’d hear of arrests, of beatings, of..situations. One day she showed up and asked for some food. I said, as I handed her a bag of fruit and bread, your guy says…..and she said “Oh, God, no, I can’t be pregnant, that would be crazy, I’m not pregnant”. She was very firm on the point. Okay, I said. But if you were…you know you can talk with me. She left.

And she was jailed, out of jail, in the next town. Friends would bring me reports, knowing my concern for her.

Today she walked in. “I heard you were at the emergency room last night” I said. “sounds like you’ve been having some hard times”. For the first time in a while she was clear. Off drugs, at least off discernable drugs. Coherent, focused.

“You know that talk we had a while ago?” she asked. “Yes”. “Well, yeah, it’s true. I am pregnant”. “Okay. What do you want to do?”

“I want this baby. Can you help me get in touch with the women’s shelter?”

Phone call made, message left. Call returned. Mary knows a lot about Cloud, because months ago I talked to her about this young woman, and told her I was waiting, just waiting, until she was ready to try to be clear and seek shelter and care. Mary, heaven love her, said “Well, this is great. We’ve got a long road, but you’ve managed to get her to take this first step, that’s amazing”

She’s coming as quickly as possible from out of town, to meet with my young friend and try to coax her in. Quickly as possible, however, in my region means that with luck she will arrive by nightfall. And we will hope to find our young friend still sober, momentarily undrugged, and willing to come in from the cold.