09/13/2025
The Same Place, A Year Later... with a big dose of awareness.
Every early morning, we walk the same path around the lake with Buster. The park has become our routine: Two miles of trail winding past wildlife and around the water that reflects the morning sky. It's a peaceful way to start each day.
The park draws different people throughout the week. Weekend mornings bring families with baseball gear and tennis rackets. The hiking trails see their share of joggers and nature lovers. But the early morning hours feel quieter, shared with dog walkers and others who appreciate the calm before the day gets busy.
About year ago, we met a woman in the parking lot. Her little dog had been watching Buster from her lap while she sat in her car. We'd assumed she was traveling, maybe taking a rest, clothes visible hanging in the backseat area. It was a pleasant, brief conversation, the kind that happens naturally between dog people.
This Saturday morning began like all the others. We pulled into our usual spot in the quieter section of the parking lot and prepared for our walk. Then we saw the car beside us, the same little dog looking our way, the same woman behind the wheel, the same clothes hanging in the back. She was busy typing something on her phone.
The moment of recognition was striking. We'd been seeing this car regularly over the months, parked in various spots around the lot. Somehow it had never registered until now, with this perfect repeat of our encounter from a year ago.
She appeared well-groomed, her dog looked healthy and content. The car had a stuff in it, but was tidy. We didn't stare, but nothing seemed amiss, except for the realization that was becoming clear: This car was her home.
As we walked our familiar loop, we found ourselves reflecting on what we'd just understood. Every day there are more stories about people living in vehicles, a staggering increase in homelessness in the face of these rising costs, people having to make hard decisions about where their money goes. These are beyond difficult times for many. Where is this going...
When we returned from our walk an hour later, the parking lot had filled up with more cars and sun screens covered her car windows - a simple gesture toward privacy that we respected, understanding the importance of not making someone feel observed or uncomfortable, especially when their living situation was more visible than most.
The park will be there tomorrow morning, as it has been every day, for many years. We'll be there, too. And most likely, so will she, all of us drawn to these quiet hours by the water, finding what we need in this shared space we call community.