What to Say When There’s Nothing to Say

I made fifty lunches today for Street Angels, the homeless outreach program I work with. This was basically fifty sandwiches – salami and provolone – along with stuff I could just toss in: string cheese, fruit snacks, and chips. I have made cupcakes a couple of times which sounds cuter than it turns out but today was not a cupcake day. It was a get it done day.

So, once or twice when I’ve made these lunches, I’ve written a message on the lunch bags. I used to do little strips of Dad jokes but that involved a lot of snipping, so I ditched it. Plus, I never heard anybody laugh. I was the only one laughing. I love me a good Dad joke. But if I was sitting in a wet tent, I’d probably think otherwise.

I couldn’t decide what to write on the bags. A while ago, I wrote, “Hey! You’ve got friends”” because it seemed like a message I’d appreciate if I was out on the street. But then, I’d be looking around, wondering, well, where are those friends? Street Angels are friends, a person might think, while he’s watching the Street Angels bus roll off to the next stop. And I hope that thought holds. I think it does. People call and text with news, requests, wanting to connect. So, the friendship thing isn’t entirely abstract. Still.

I googled inspirational sayings, thinking that there was something from Rumi or MLK that I could use. But there was nothing. Then, when I was making the sandwiches, I realized what I wanted to say all day, a day that started with heavy snow and a very cold wind was this: “This is all fucked up and I’m really sorry.”

I didn’t write that or anything else. I just left the bags blank.