There was something of a discord between the indulgent Starbucks coffeehouse treats being consumed inside and the persistent men outside asking every passing patron for spare change. The neighborhood was still poor, but hosting more mainstream chain stores and fast food these days. Formerly a forgotten war zone for local gangs, the area had calmed somewhat, and now included a busy trolley station with shiny red trolleys beeping their loud buzzy horns every ten minutes. Two beeps and they arrived. Two beeps and they departed. With every trolley came a variety of people that poured through the parking lot and into the nearby businesses at the adjacent shopping center or on to the local bus stops; a few on a mission to somewhere. Some obviously with nowhere else to go. Among them a pale woman with dyed black hair chopped dutch boy style made her way onto the Starbucks patio where I had parked myself to wait for a phone call. She talked briefly to every patron seated there. Most ignored her. I sat with my little terrier, Rocket, sipping my drink and watching the play of all these people in the bright midday sun. As the woman approached, I decided to do what everyone else did; I looked down at my phone and busily went about tapping this and that on its small screen. But she spoke loudly, insisting on my attention. I indulged. I smiled as she doted on the virtues of Rocket. She smiled regardless of her many missing teeth. He is a pretty cute little dog I acknowledged. He looks like a brown and white storybook terrier with bright, curious eyes, big pointy ears, a wagging tail, and a friendly expression. She leaned over to pet him. I saw the track marks and sores on her arms and scars on her face. Her oversized white t-shirt hung awkwardly off of one shoulder. Her pale blue jeans matched her eyes and fit tightly around her unusually thin legs. Rocket licked her face. I found myself wishing he hadn’t done that. But he bares no judgement here; he returned her affections unconditionally. “Street Life”, was the sound track to this moment and it blared from the speakers strung along the eaves above the patio. “… for a nickel or a dime… Street Life”. It was unusually fitting. The woman continued to talk about how she immediately fell in love with a gangster she met some time before. “He was tatted from head to toe!” she marveled, “but he was holding a little baby chihuahua, so gently, and I fell in love right then.” She cupped her hands together near her chest as one would when holding something small and precious. “Just like this…” she said. Her voice dropped a few decibels. “It was true love right then. There’s a beautiful heart in everyone.” she said softly. She still looked at me, but she was in her minds eye now. Only for a couple of seconds though. She then regained focus and repeated herself as if to emphasize the lesson. But in that moment I had already learned it. She walked away chatting about something else, to someone I could not see. Under my breath, I blessed her and thanked her. Rocket watched her walk away with genuine interest. I took a deep slow breath, then I thanked Rocket with a smile and a loving pat as he wagged his tail and looked around at me. And I thought… “Yes, Rocket, you remind me of the simple truths. Love has no condition, no judgment; it flows through the beautiful heart in every being and is deserved by all.”