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It was rainy all day today, but I managed to get out while it was just a light drizzle, really. My shoes are on their last legs (what?) so water seeps in a bit when the sidewalks are wet. I have another pair but was too lazy to dig them out of the closet. 

I talked with my thirty-six-year-old son, who has been dealing with mental illness for some time. A little over a month or so, he took a train from Chicago to Seattle and made his way to a small town that is close to the Canadian border, and has been living in a tent. He has no money, and with the cold and wet Pacific Northwest fall/winter becoming a reality for him, he's begun to question his decision a little bit.

For several weeks, he refused to get in touch with me (no texts, no calls) or his mother, and made his Instagram account private so that we could no longer keep somewhat of an eye on him. I sent him some money for food and am considering buying him a ticket to San Francisco as a means of momentarily getting him into a safe environment. I don't have the space for him here, however, and once my roommate gets back from her trip in a few days, things will get even more complicated.

He has other issues that I'm not going to get into here, but suffice it to say that I and his mother are at our wits' end.