Hub rolled down the street. Her long, thin legs propelled her
quickly, efficiently. When she was a child, the kids on her block called her
licorice legs, but she had grown into them. They were, in fact, one of her best
features.
She was only a few paces from the corner store when a voice
called out. “Hub. Hey Hub. I got something for you.”
It was old Missus Fitzsimmons from the mission, waving to
her from across the street. She always seemed to appear out of nowhere when Hub
really, really needed something, or someone, even if she herself didn’t
recognize the need.
Hub turned and strode toward the elderly lady, who stood
still, apparently grateful that she needn’t bother her arthritic knees and
swollen ankles with unnecessary locomotion.
Missus Fitzsimmons looked up at Hub and smiled.
“Hey Missus Fitzsimmons. How are you today?”
“Just fine Hub. Just fine. I’m so glad to see you.”
Based on the way she was beaming, Hub knew she meant it.
Missus F had been with the mission long before Hub found herself devoid of parents
and a place to live. She was always kind and welcoming, encouraging Hub and
others from the neighborhood to take seconds in the soup kitchen, and knitting
mittens for them all for the cold winter months. She never seemed to tire of helping others.
“Hub, a letter came for you today.”
The mission let Hub and others who were ‘between homes’ list them as a
permanent address. They were expected to stop by every few days to pick up
anything that had arrived.
Missus F pulled a fat white envelope from her handbag and
held it out to Hub. The return address was Columbia College. Hub’s heart
stopped and her breath caught.
