He sought me out.

Certainly a first.

Maybe he was tired of waiting for me and here I thought all along he was selfish and indifferent. At least that is what I always told myself.

Of course, he could have been using me. Perhaps he was tired of the cold and needed a warm place to shelter.

How on earth would I know? In the past when I asked him questions he never answered, at least not directly. And the very few times he did, his answers made no sense.

They tell me most homeless suffer from severe social issues, disorders, and mental illness. Indeed, there are those that find themselves homeless for a time, due to circumstances outside of their control. But not the chronic ones.

And while it’s true he is the only direct experience of homelessness I have ever had, it seems to me he fits that bill.

This morning, when I woke up, I was startled to discover him sitting there on my front porch. So, like any good southern host, I welcomed him into my humble home.

He, however, politely declined. Preferring nature, he said while making himself at home on one of the ancient wooden rocking chairs decorating the cabin’s front porch.

To tell the truth it was the type of front porch that invited you to sit and stay a lifetime. One that longed for generation upon generation to linger in her shade. Sitting content, patiently waiting for the laughter of family and friends.

I set a steaming mug of coffee on the table beside him, knowing he would not drink it. After all, he had taken nothing from me in the past.

To my surprise, he picked it up immediately and wrapped his hands around the mug bringing it close to his face. Much like I would do on a chilly morning. Gathering warmth.

The old man took a sip and smiled.

In that exact moment, like they were directly connected, the sun peaked out from behind a cloud. It too smiled, illuminating his round face. He squinted and seemed to stare directly at the morning light. Content to be.

His wrinkles betrayed his youthful expression, bursting to share deep wisdom that comes from a lifetime of experience but seasoned enough to remain silent and still.

“I see great things for you here.” He said fixing his gaze on the sun. Long and slow he inhaled, taking in the crisp mountain air.

Following his lead, I too inhaled deeply and, taking a sip from my coffee, settled in to enjoy all that the outdoors had to offer on this chilly spring morning. Countless birds chirping in the trees, cows lowing off in the distance and the low roar of the stream at the bottom of the hill swelling from last night’s rain, all sounds nature so graciously offered even though I never took the time to step outside the confines of my four walls to listen, uncover, or enjoy.

And those are just the walls in the physical world. What of the invisible ones?

Untold treasure waits on the other side. I, however, cling to those walls. After all, it took a lifetime to build them. Do I really have the heart to tear them down? Now?

I fought back tears, not knowing or understanding why they chose to present themselves. Not here. Not now.

Resistance.

“Don’t” he said reading my mind and I understood what he meant.

I allowed the tears to just be.