Here.
Here is a woman in need.
Missing more than a few teeth, covered in scratches and insect bites.
Afraid and alone.
Appears older than stated age.
Appears 45.
I guess her age at 38.
I find out she's 30.
A year and a half older than I.
Here, a reminder of how different my life could be.
Here is a woman.
"Positive for meth"
"Lives in a motel," comes the report.
Needs love.
Needs hope.
Shooed away from other safe places that are made immune to basic charity by their haughty ethics and sterile policies.
I am glad she is here.
We won't test her for drugs, or whisper down our noses.
We won't hide our judgement between her vital signs.
She said "I was taking better care of myself. I was eating every day."
Every. Day.
I want to take better care of her than any private patient. I want to give her a shower and warm blankets and a quiet place to do the secret and sacred things that women do.
A dignified place to say goodbye.
I want to care for her in this moment. I want her to know a little love in a hard, hard world.
I know I can't change her. I know her days are filled with drugs and suffering and men who would take anything they can from her.
I know she isn't likely to find a way up.
But I can give her comfort and dignity.
I can give her the finest nursing care while she loses her baby.

Here is a woman in need,
Deserving of love.