Tag Archives: caring friends

Where Is Natalie?

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Writer Wendy’s weekly installment

The wheeled suitcase lay partially hidden by the stage, a small, raised platform across the parking lot from the picnic tables at our free food site.

When I got there to help my friend Michelle disperse hot lunches in the freezing temperatures, she was standing over the case, which had contents spilled across the stage, its top resting at the edge, while it sat on the concrete below.

Michelle runs The Mobile Closet, which gives donated clothes free to those in need; right now she’s doing a roaring trade in hats, coats, socks, and blankets. Plus a tent here or there.

Michelle toed a pink hoodie. “I want to check these out, but I don’t want to hit a sharp.” (This refers to drug paraphernalia, not markers.)

I found some food service gloves and began a careful examination. The case had clearly been rifled, probably someone had found it and taken anything of value. Indeed, there was nothing but clothes: a white sundress, a few more sweatshirts, some leggings. While everything was akimbo, lines in the clothes showed they had been neatly folded for some time.

Flipping the top of the case over, I read “Natalie Cecil” in huge silver letters. We looked at one another. Michelle shrugged. “Never heard of her.” She knows the names of almost every homeless person in Wytheville.

I walked around the service building housing the free food café; it was closed, which was why we were there to hand out lunches. No one hurt in the bushes, behind the dumpsters, or any of the other places homeless people sometimes camp until someone sees them and calls police.

When I got back to the platform, Michelle said with a smile, “Don’t turn around. The police are watching us.” My careful search at close proximity to the building had prompted a good citizen to take action.

The police watched us rifle the clothes. Declaring the clothes clean, the officers suggested Michelle put them into her Mobile Closet.

Michelle put up online that she had the case, asking people to pass the info around. The only nearby Facebook profile by that name didn’t match the clothing size. No one came forward, and the contents were soon dispersed.

Who is Natalie? Where is Natalie? Is she all right? Who rifled the case, and what was in it before that disappeared into someone else’s possessions?

We will never know. It feels like the universe closed over a rip through which someone’s daughter, sister, best friend walked.

Wherever you are, Natalie, we are praying for you.

Come back next Friday for more from Wendy Welch

Friends Care And Do–

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Writer Wendy’s weekly blog

Today I am going to Biltmore to see the Christmas lights. Today is Epiphany, the proper day on which to mark the end of the 12 days of Christmas. Tomorrow Biltmore will take down the lights.

It is bucketing rain today. A dear friend widowed during COVID has on her bucket list to see the mansion decorated for the holidays. She has a ticket. She meant to go last week, and everyone going with her got sick. Today is the last day she can go. Being a widow means finding the courage to do many things alone that you would have done with a partner (or even over a partner’s objections). My friend took up salsa dancing. She went back to work, taking diverse jobs using all her considerable skills both in office work and in compassionate human care. (She is my parents’ weekly home care assistant.) She does not want to go alone, because Christmas lights on Epiphany are a thing to be enjoyed with a friend.

I dislike Biltmore. But I like my friend. She isn’t a victim; she’s a survivor who helps other people survive. She won’t care if I make fun of some of the opulence she will be so richly enjoying, and I’ll try to tamp down my natural sarcasm about the excesses of rich people’s stuff. These are the spaces we make for one another. These are the things we do for one another.

I am going with her because she does not want to go alone. She has shown kindness to my family, courage in the face of devastating losses, resilience in becoming a great salsa dancer–even though her church friends think it’s a little weird and perhaps too powerful and sexy for a widowed woman–and her determination that her walk with God not be dictated by her circumstances.

She wants to go see the lights at Biltmore today. It is bucketing rain and going to freeze tonight. We are going to see the lights at Biltmore because this is the kind of thing we who care do for each other.

This story may smack of “Ain’t I great taking my friend to do something I don’t care about in the teeth of a winter storm.” But that ain’t it, either.

We are here for each other because we have known each other a long time and understand the limits of human endurance. She wants to see the Christmas lights. She gets to see the Christmas lights. It’s good to have snow tires. It’s good to have friends.