Perhaps our most poignant writings come from those life experiences that impact us in ways least suspected. Perspectives shift as our eyes open to what is around us. Sometimes such experiences find expression in the written word. The story you are invited to read speaks to this.  ‘Totally Unexpected’ is a work of creative fiction based on one such life experience. It is my encounter with a younger brother living on the streets of the Vancouver’s Downtown East Side … an encounter both humbling and joyful. I now see a brother/sister in every homeless person I meet.  Editor’s Note: This was also a CBC short story entry in 2010.

Vancouver was on a time out. It was the lull between the two Olympics. The crush of people was now temporarily absent. There was warmth in this early March evening. The fresh fragrance of blossoms drifted in the air. Muted pinks and blues stretched across the horizon. An occasional bird still sang its song. Leaving the tranquility of the ocean behind us, we headed towards Robson Street. The stresses of the day slowly dissipated. Walking side by side, we continued to savor the sights and sounds the moments brought. Robson Street was still its usual self, filled with tourists and locals. Many of the tourists were a blend of internationals and nationals. Some were riding the coattails of the Olympic high. With Gucci bags in hand, they mined the depths of stores scanning for those Olympic souvenirs that remained unsold. Others gestured excitedly, chattering in French, German, Japanese, Italian and a myriad of other tongues. They walked three, four, sometimes even five abreast oblivious to sidewalk etiquette! It was up to the rest of us to dodge amongst them without being forced into oncoming traffic.

You could spot the locals. They were the ones often dressed casually, sporting small packs and umbrellas. They had traded style for comfort as evidenced in their sensible footwear. They were the ones who knew where the real bargains were to be found. They were often the ones willing to share their excitement about Vancouver. Have you visited China Town? Seen the Sun Yat-Sen Gardens? Make sure you check out the Maritime Museum! Granville Island is a must! My husband and I tended to think of ourselves as Islander locals rather than tourists. On this occasion an appointment had brought us to Vancouver.

Of course there were those that people shunned or preferred not to notice. They were the homeless who sometimes left the Downtown East Side and made their way along trendy streets like Robson. All of their personal belongings were kept in the carts which they pushed in front of them. Most of the time, they stuck to the alleyways salvaging what they could from bins.

We were now making our way through the crowd towards CinCin’s on Robson for some Italian cuisine. It had become one of our favorite places to dine when we were in the city. We couldn’t help noticing the younger women dressed to the nines, strutting along in their four inch heels. It was quite a balancing act they performed with their bags brimming, colorfully advertising The Gap, Holt Renfrew, Banana Republic and others. Their sleek black hair was tied back to accent Cover Girl faces. Silk blouses hanging in folds drew attention to black leggings clinging like skin. All had the appearance of being cast from a similar mould.

The buskers too were warming up. Each had claimed a particular space. Their collection plates were strategically placed. The haunting saxophone played by the musician on one corner competed with the twangy guitarist singing country on the other. Onlookers paused, listening. Some gave generously. Others continued on unmoved. Obscenely expensive muscle cars shook the air with their booming stereos.

My attention suddenly was drawn to a person whose appearance and manner seemed rather incongruent with those who had been rushing by. I was curious. I watched from a distance as this person approached us. He carried himself with a rather relaxed steady gait. It was as though he knew his purpose for being here and there was no need to rush. His gaze turned slowly from one side to the other giving the impression that he was looking for something. What could it could be?

As he came nearer, I noticed the brown toque covering his ears. Stands of stringy blond hair fell from the its edge. A rough beard, blond and streaked with grey, followed the contour of his angular face. His jeans were grubby, faded and well worn. An old sweat shirt hung loosely over his medium frame. Glancing down, I noticed the white soiled runners he wore. They seemed to be a sloppy fit, lacking in arch support. One of those extra sized, transparent plastic bags was slung over his left shoulder. Looking closer, I saw it was loaded with an assortment of cans and plastic bottles.

This guy looked like one of those binners! I had seen them occasionally when I glanced down the back alleys. He appeared quite comfortable, quite sure of himself. The stares from those he had passed didn’t seem to faze him in the least. He looked straight at them and grinned. Soon we would be passing one another! My husband’s attention was directed elsewhere. He rarely makes a habit of watching people. My antenna was up! There was something familiar about this person. How could that be? I’m in Vancouver. Who would I know that would be walking along Robson?

Something was happening here. It hit in a flash! Disbelief and excitement raced through me. I stopped in full stride. This stranger had done the same thing! I looked into his smiling hazel eyes. His beaming grin revealed a few missing teeth. I know my eyes were dancing with joy. In fact, I was dancing in the street, chanting Greg, Greg; it’s Greg! My husband was wondering what had gotten into me? What was I talking about? What’s this about Greg? Then he looked at this person beside me and was blown away by whom he saw!

A chance meeting? I don’t think so! Totally unexpected, yes! My heart knew that this encounter was meant to be. Here less than an arm’s length away was the younger brother I had been looking for! Hugging one another felt so comfortable, so right. Those missing eight years were melting away. He hugged me tighter. In a laughing voice with the sense of humor I remembered so well he said, “Hey Lady, hear you’ve been looking for me!” My husband soon joined in our embrace. I had a vague sense that those passing by were giving the three of us a wide berth. Maybe they were wondering what we were on!

I drew back slightly, watching my brother intently as he spoke. I didn’t dare take my eyes off of him in case this was a dream and he’d disappear. “I got the messages you guys left on the board at Insite for me. They were good to get. Thanks for the birthday greeting. By the way I’m 47 not 45″, he laughed. “My buddy keeps encouraging me to get in touch saying ‘what’s the matter with you? Your sister wants to see you’.  I really wanted to but not like this. Wanted to wait until I had a place of my own. My name’s been on the housing list for two years now and it’s getting near the top. Expect to have a place by the end of summer.”

Greg I asked, “Where are you staying now?”

“Oh I’m spending most of my nights now at First United Mission. Lots of us doing that. It’s been a little rough lately. But as I said, I should have a place of my own soon.” I shuddered, recalling my first walk along Hastings and Main. Greg continued. “I couch surf lots at my buddy’s. Check my e-mail there too. Help him the days the elevator is down. He’s got that breathing disease.

Learned from Paul at Pivot Legal that you saw my photo ‘Pigeon Walking’ on the web. He said something about one of the nephews googled my name. We couldn’t believe it! When I entered that photo contest for The Hope In Shadows Calendar sponsored by Pivot, I was hoping to win a few bucks. Never thought it would end up on the web! How about that?”

I was thinking “Whew! I remember how struck I was by the strength and resilience in the pigeon captured by his camera. I also remembered that gut wrenching sensation that tore through me. It was true! He was living in Vancouver’s Downtown East Side.”

The three of us now were, in a manner of speaking, still shaking our heads trying get a handle on what had just happened.

“You know, I normally walk along Davie but this time decided to head up to Robson,” Greg said.

“If we weren’t walking from English Bay with a friend who was going to The West Side Community Centre, we would have turned up Robson later. We would have never met!”I said.

My husband came out with, “You know this is better than those commercials where the two accountants are giving odds for an event to happen!”

I believe something had been set in motion the moment I first saw ‘Pigeon Walking’. Many times during my three-year search for Greg, I felt I was being guided. There was a Presence that walked with me through frustration, fears and hopes. The phone calls leading nowhere. Messages not responded to. Long intervals when Greg seemed to have disappeared. The Homeless had been given a face. New concerns and fears were always surfacing. Snow and strong winds predicted for Vancouver. My heart was in my throat hearing that an unidentified DTES resident had been fatally burned. He had died trying to keep warm. Greg’s photo led me to Pivot Legal. It had opened up an opportunity to get messages to him. In an indirect way, it had lead to the First United Mission.

Now, here was my brother with an air of strength and resilience much like that pigeon! “You know,” he laughed. “When I realized it was you, I thought about putting my hand out asking, Lady do yah have any money to spare. I’m in need of a fix! I decided that might give you a scare, so I better not!” What about you guys? How are yah keeping?”

“We’re doing okay,I said. We live on Vancouver Island now.”

“Oh, that’s good news. When did you guys move to the Island? I didn’t think you’d ever leave Revelstoke. I remember that summer I came out. Boy, the hiking there was something. How do you like living on the Island?

I said, “It’s a nice change. Still have the mountains, but now we have the ocean too. Miss our friends though.”

Greg asked, “Don’t’ you miss the skiing?”

“No, we’re lucky. Mount Washington is only an hour away. The cross country there is great.”

“Oh,” he said, asking “How are things with everyone back east? I‘ve been out here almost four years now?”

“Lots to catch up on,” I said. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to hearing.”

“Greg, we want to cancel our dinner reservations. Let’s find a place where we can eat and talk without being bothered. What do you think?” my husband asked.

“Well, I’ve already eaten. Tell you what. You guys go and eat. Keep those reservations and enjoy your dinner. I still have things to do. Got to take these bottles to the depot and pick up a few more along the way. Also have some buddies I’m supposed to be meeting later. How long are you staying in Vancouver?”

“We are planning to head back tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s good. How about meeting up for breakfast tomorrow morning? Let’s say I meet you outside the Starbucks on the corner of Davie and Denman around 9:30?”

“Sounds good to us.”

I hugged him even more tightly, reluctant to let go. I panicked thinking, would he really show up? A voice deep within whispered, Trust Jule. Your brother is a survivor. I relaxed.

Greg reached down picked up his bag of bottles and cans and slung them over his shoulder. He flashed a wide grin, looked us in the eyes and said, “See yah tomorrow for breakfast.”

By Jule Briese (aka Ms Butterfly)

Richard Rohr talks about ‘loving both halves of life” and how the first half of our life prepares us for the second half of life. During the first half of life, my choice to enter the teaching profession resulted in becoming a life long learner. This has created wonderful opportunities to serve in meaningful ways and to develop a variety of skills and discover new interests.

The second stage of my life continues to deepen and expand these skills and interests. Tranquil Shores Facilitation is now my way of reaching out to the community, offering Nurturing Workshops in the areas of Inner Growth, Finding Balance, Restorative Communication and Healing Retreats for women who put their infants up for adoption.

My belief in the power of energy to heal continues to be nurtured through energy courses and offering energy based healing sessions as well as volunteering in self care at Oceanside Hospice. I am presently taking courses from the Centre for Transition and Loss located in Fort Collins, Colorado, with the goal of completing the Death and Grief Studies Certificate. This certificate will hopefully create opportunities in the future of companioning those along their journey in grief and mourning.

The words of the mystic Meister Eckhart resonated for me when he wrote “Where shall we begin? Begin with the heart. For the spring of life arises from the heart and from there it runs in a circular manner.”

See all articles by Guest Author