Where do they sleep?

"Once, on Route 23, thirty below,
my Maverick seized up, and a man
with a blanket and a candy bar, a man
for all weather, stopped and drove me home.
It was no big thing to him, the savior.
Just two men, he said, in the same cold."

                From "The Same Cold" by Stephen Dunn

I am so thankful for my job at the Provo City Library at Academy Square.  This building has a long history in Provo and has been many things to many people.  Years ago, it was the place my Uncle John graduated from high school.  For me, it is one of the most beautiful buildings I know, inside and out.  It is filled with books and people, and a staff that have become over the years, somewhat of a family-away-from-home to me.  When I walk from room to room at the library, it feels familiar to me, like a room at my own house. 

There is another constant population at our library, some of the homeless people in the area.  They, like the books and the staff, are there each evening when I work.  No longer someone I might notice sitting at a bus stop or by the side of the road, they have faces and names and stories.  Fear has somewhat given way to familiarity and compassion.  They read, study, write, and sometimes even sleep, but bother no one.  I am a Page and work in Circulation, which means that we are the ones out in the shelves and around the patrons the most.  Some of the homeless people are accustomed to being alone, and keep to themselves.  Others are happy to receive a hello or a smile, and will ask me how I am, or tell me a joke.  They stay until closing each evening, and as I drive home, I often pass them, and wonder where they go.  The other night, one of the Reference Librarians, who has been there for many years, asked me if I had noticed that a certain man had not been there in a couple of weeks.  She said, "When they leave or get a job or something, they should tell us, don't you think?  So we won't be wondering about them."  A kind statement from a sweet lady.
Anyway, it appears that our "Indian summer" is over and our weather is turning cold.  I know that when I walk by these "regulars" during the cold months, I will smell the campfire on their clothes.  It is a reminder to me of all I have to be thankful for.  I give more thought now to those who have no place to sleep.