Our Sad Litter Visitor

A woman with clattered blond hair, middle-aged but not wearing it too well, makes a regular stop at our low wall along the public sidewalk in front of our house. It's a long walk and I need a place to rest on my way, she tells me. You don't mind, do you? I tell her I don't as I think of Jesus and doing it unto the least of them as if I were doing it unto him. I also think of the hostas that are trying to push their way up under her broad flat feet.

A short while after the blond lady starts making regular sitting visits, I begin to notice the alcohol bottles in my garden, held behind the low wall. There are always two of them, mini's they're called, 50 milliliters each: Smirnoff Vanilla Twist, Dekuyper Peachtree Schnapps, Saint Brendan's Irish Cream Liqueur and Cast & Cream Chocolate Temptation Cream Liqueur. The Chocolate Temptation is favored, apparently, judging by the number of bottles we find. I start to check the front garden and sidewalk daily for the little bottles and their gold screw caps. If I only find one, I keep looking and nearly always find the other half of the pair. I start saving these empties in an old ice cream bucket in the back hallway.

On a Sunday afternoon I am home alone, typing here at my desk, looking out the front window. Here she comes again, the least of them with her brown paper bag that I hadn't noticed before. She sits in her usual spot on our wall. Her back is to my house, but I see her head suddenly tip up. A minute later and it tips up again. Her hand goes behind her back and two familiar little shapes drop into my garden, two more Chocolate Temptations.

My pulse quickens, my palms begin to sweat. I hate confrontation almost as much as I hate littering, intentional and habitual littering on my own property. Suddenly my hostas are very important to me and I bolt down the stairs and out the front door just as she is getting up to leave. She is surprised to see me, apologizes, but assures me that she isn't the only one leaving the little bottles. Where did that remark come from? I simply ask her not to leave her litter here any more. She says okay and tells me to have a good day. I put out my hand and place it on her shoulder, look her in the eye and tell her thank you.

The bottles disappear. For at least a week. Then I notice one down the block on my neighbor's front lawn. Out of habit I keep walking until I find the second one. It is all the way down near the corner on another neighbor's lawn. A few more show up across the street and a few days later, in the road. Another week goes by and they are in my garden once more. We watch and wait, but do not see the woman for a long time. We stay near the house for a couple of Sundays, keeping an informal lookout, pretending to be enjoying the spring weather near the front steps.

It is a weekday during Spring Break when she finally materializes. My husband is home and I am once more sitting at the computer by the window. I yell downstairs - the woman is back! Then I watch from the shadows away from the window as my husband goes out to speak with her. The brown paper bag is at her side as she sits on our wall. She is asked to move on and not sit on our wall anymore. She is asked not to leave her bottles behind. She looks surprised and says it's not me. We've seen you leave them. Should I go and get the bucket full of empties to show you? It's not me. I'm just here to check my bus pass. We know by now that she has gotten off the city bus 3 blocks east of here, stopped at Steve's Liquor store one block south and then headed west 3 more blocks to our wall. She denies it once more and pulls out a Kleenex to wipe her eyes as my husband asks her once more to move on and not sit on our wall anymore. He turns and comes back into the house.

I see the Kleenex come out and can not help feeling sorry for her. I again remember Jesus' words about doing unto the least of them and I cringe with guilt and irritation at the feeling of guilt at the same time. She needs help. She is tired and sad. She is obviously disturbed. And I have turned her away. I find comfort by reminding myself that she has not respected us or our property. She has persistently littered and has caused the demise of one of my hostas, a feat I had never thought possible. Turn the other cheek, Jesus' voice in my head. Who wins this discussion? My green thumb? My civic pride? My self-preserving and self-protecting nature? Or my guilt-driven Christian consciousness? Can there be a right answer for this one? I am not an AA counselor or clinic. It's a measly 4-inch wide wall, for Pete's sake! Hardly meant for sitting on.

I think of deterrents, little nails pounded into the top of the wooden wall at close intervals to make sitting unpleasant or impossible, a sign asking anyone who might sit there to please not litter. A friend suggests a graphic of someone tipping back a bottle with a bright red X through it, our collection bucket left out as a garbage receptacle and subtle reminder of past transgressions (too subtle if you ask me - direct confrontation didn't seem to faze her) or maybe a long string of razor wire coiled along the wall with a responsible warning to passing children and squirrels. To my credit, I haven't done any of these things - yet. We remain vigilant, doubting that we have seen the last of our shuffling sad visitor. I pray for her, but then am nudged once more by the Bible story of the man who had a beggar come to his door and he simply blessed him with a few words and sent him on his way. Be warm, be well-fed, God bless you, go away. I know I am silly. I don't even know her name.