She pulled into her carport, her mind on thoughts of putting her groceries away and what she might make for dinner later on. The carport was narrow enough that she had to fold her mirrors in, and even then there was barely enough room to pull in and still have room to open the door on the driver’s side to get out. It was especially tight that afternoon, and she squeezed herself out of the car and turned to walk out, and that’s wen she saw him. The intruder. She hadn’t seen him when she pulled in, he had made not a sound. She was completely taken by surprise, and he stood there blocking her way to leave and get to the safety of her house. She stopped short and they stared at each other, until she finally said, “Hello.”
He was young, inexperienced, she knew that by looking at him. She was sure he had panhandling on his mind. But he was barking up the wrong tree, so to speak, because she knew that he needed to learn to fend for himself if he was going to grow and thrive into adulthood. They live in a very rich environmental area for him take care of himself, she was sure of that. So she moved toward her door and he backed off, but only a little. And when he finally decided to move on she was glad. Even though he was moving down the street to another house where I’ve heard they do feed him. 
The lasting thought from this encounter was to wonder how in the world she had not seen him as she pulled into her driveway. Was she daydreaming, not looking? She vowed to be more observant in the future…
A Snowbird's Life Through the Lens 