We had an early dinner out tonight so I could take a tour of a local women’s shelter to determine how my volunteer skills might be best ulitilized. It made sense to try a restaurant near the shelter, because, well, because traffic. The first place I found on Yelp was packed and it was too hot to sit in the sun (Florida problems) so I found a second. It’s this great, trendy little place that serves healthy raw food in a little garden with linen napkins and kombucha and cocktails with fruit sculptures fruit floating around and fancy bottles of water. It was glorious.
When we finished HW drove me about a mile away to the shelter. I stepped out onto the sidewalk and was not completely oblivious to the looks I received. I’d considered wearing a dress and was extremely grateful I went with shorts and a simple shirt instead. I’m not sure what exactly made me stick out. My light skin? It’s not so light. My clothes? Nothing fancy, truly. My complete and utter cluelessness? Probably.
The woman who showed me the facility explained what they do, how overcrowded they are, and asked what I’d like to do. Maybe a gardening or a craft project. Maybe a presentation about street law or child support, both topics someone with a law degree should be able to cover, especially someone with a law degree who personally deals with (what passes for) child support every month. But when I looked around at the faces of the people living there, bouncing their babies, carrying plates of food from the cafeteria, anything I could offer seems extremely inadequate.