The Little Things.

It's...a bit hard for people like me to see something in society and not remember what things used to be like. People don't know this, but I'm actually at home with my folks right now, and being back in New York is a changing experience. There are more roads, more shops, and an apartment complex built smack dab where I used to play as a kid. And that's not even the worst change, not by a long shot.

One of my best friends from third grade up until our senior year is homeless.

So, when I found Denny Kinnley sifting through trash in scruffy clothes today, smelling like he hadn't washed in three months? I'm not gonna lie, I cried. Hard.

DK's been with me for a long time, always there for me when I was feeling down, and he was one of the only people at Crown Heights to actually be nice to me. He had just moved to the area, just a mile away from my parent's place, when we met. I was getting picked on by some fifth graders and he just walked right up and told them to stop. He got a bloody nose and black eye for his troubles, right along with me. We'd been friends since.

He'd been fired from his job three years ago because he took time off to watch his mother die of cancer, and was evicted two months later for being late on rent, as nobody would give him a job. DK made due on the street, doing odd jobs for a bite to eat or a place to stay, even doing some questionable things just to stay alive. He was too ashamed of himself to even think about asking someone for help, to the point that it was killing him.

So, I practically had to drag him to my gran's place, who was more than happy to let him stay there until he got back on his feet. It was the least I could do, and I mean that in the most literal way possible.

TL;DR, appreciate the little things, and don't hesitate to help someone in need. There will always be something you can do to help, be it giving them the spare poptart in your pocket, or dragging them to your grandma's house for a safe place to sleep.