There’s a spot in Waco that I always go to. Bad days, good days, normal days. I’ve been coming here since freshman year. I don’t have a picture of the spot I always go to, but here’s a picture of the Suspension Bridge for all you non-Wacoans:

So today’s adventure. It’s a bit of a story.

Last summer, much like this summer because of the rain, the river was flooded so my normal spot is covered with, well, water. I’d been sitting up on a ledge above that looks like this:

This time, I went at night time. It hadn’t rained all day, so the water levels receded and I could see the spot I usually sat at, but it was covered in mud. I decided to stay on the same ledge that I was on the day before.

So, I was sitting, journaling, jamming, when this woman -- about 5’8″, buzz cut (that was bleached blonde), pale but covered in tats, and super skinny -- started looking at me. When she smiled, I smiled back. I was too far away to say anything, but that didn’t stop her. She started trying to talk to me; yelling at me to look at the ducks. She seemed fascinated by them and was laughing at the silly things that they did. I laughed with her, but stayed where I was.

Eventually, she asked me to come down to where she was (my usual spot) and play in the mud with her.

I said okay.

Normally, people usually stay away from other people who, when using stereotypes, look like they probably do drugs, and whatnot. This woman looked like she did drugs, and whatnot. But I think she was just sad. I figured she was just lonely. So I stayed and went to play in the mud with her.

I figured we could be lonely together.

After walking in the mud for a bit, we sat on (another) ledge and talked.

She opened up to me completely. Told me of her abusive husband and how she was avoiding him. They’ve been married almost two years, now.

Shared stories of when she was “doped up” and stories of when he would hit her. He’d hit her when he was “coming down” or when she’d “mouth off.”

He’d always apologize profusely. But then he’d always do it again. And she always went back. She said she was afraid to go back to the motel tonight. I guess that’s where they’re living right now. I didn’t ask.

At the end of the time we had together, she left in a direction that had no motels, or none that I knew of. I’m not sure where she was going (or if she was safe), but I told her to stay wherever she needed to for as long as she needed to. She understood.

I figure she’ll eventually go back to her husband, though. That’s not my place to judge. We all have addictions, bad things, or poisons in our life we need to rid ourselves of. Just because we don’t, doesn’t mean we’re not strong.

This woman (probably about 27, looked 30 something), was so incredibly strong. She opened up to a complete stranger without expecting anything in return. I don’t have that sort of bravery.

We didn’t exchange names or anything. I kind of like it that way. We met as strangers, talked as strangers, and left as strangers. Maybe sometimes that’s all we need: someone to talk to. I know it's not always conventional, or safe, to talk to strangers in the middle of the night. But if you feel safe, and see someone who might be struggling, don't be afraid to talk to them. You might not be able to help their situation, but you probably will make an impact by just listening to their situation.

It's been a year, and I still think about this woman and hope that she's okay.