Po' Folks

I didn't see it when I first met her. But I see it now. She is one of Them. She loves the Poor. The Poor are barely getting by. They struggle for their basics. Making ends meet is hard for them. Yeah, she loves the Poor. She needs the Poor because they remind her that she is doing okay. Better than okay, to hear her tell it. When I ran into her at the mall, she couldn't wait to tell me that she was shopping for a new Michael Kors bag because she had enough Coach. I just smiled, recalling all her stories of the fortune left her when her husband died. So much she had to spread it across three bank accounts.

But word on the street makes me wonder.

See, the way I heard it her brother is dying of cancer. Stage 4. I know him, a nice man. A hardworking man. A family man. He helped her when her husband lay dying of the same thief. He stopped what he doing to help her turn him over. He went over to help her load him in the car for his doctor appointments. Well, word on the street says her brother asked for $450 to have his car repaired at the dealer. He always kept up his cars (and that of every single woman's in the neighborhood. If he couldn't do the repairs, he would tell you who could). But with the cancer treatments, sure, money is scarce. So of course he would call on his rich sister. Who wouldn't?

Don't you know she asked him when he would pay her back?

I didn't see it when I first met her. But I see it now. She is one of Them. Obscurely insecure. Frightened even. She is one of the Po'. God bless her.