I have a friend.
His name is Tyrone.
Tyrone is homeless.
We’ve been buddies for years now, and we have each other’s backs.
Our favorite pastime is to hang on my front porch, chewing the fat on the troubles and joys of this beautiful and sometimes hateful world.
I could write a novel on our relationship — like when he and I pooled our resources to buy him a van to sleep out of, or when he wanted to heal the stye on my eyelid with a needle and whiskey — but I don’t feel it’s appropriate or necessary to write about it in a public way. Maybe one day.
However, there is one thing I want to share:
Two days ago, my boyfriend mentioned to Tyrone that I lost my job.
Yesterday Tyrone came by my house to gift me lunch.
Tyrone, who has no home, no steady employment and who struggles to find healthy and satiating meals on a daily basis, brought me lunch because I lost my job.
I love Tyrone.
And I’m thankful for his friendship.
(Note: I used Prisma to obscure Tyrone’s face to respect his privacy.)
Originally appeared on my Medium page.