Not to mention, I hadn’t showered in … a while. There was a just-barely-healed abrasion near the corner of my mouth where I had been smacked, hard, across the face. My jeans were caked in mud and my hands were dirt-stained. I knew I looked bad - I hadn’t slept well, the rain kept leaking through the tent.

It rained the night before and I am carrying the only possessions I have left to my name : a little roller bag, packed with mildewed clothes and various half-empty toiletries from the volunteer crew that would occasionally push their Radio Flyer wagons through the little tent city under a bridge. My mother wears an expression mixed with fear, anticipation, and relief. Nick Otto / The Washington Post via Getty Images

In this file photo, a drug user looks at the package of Narcan she was handed by Paul Harkin, director of harm reduction at GLIDE, who was walking the streets to handout Narcan, fentanyl detection packets and tinfoil to drug users in need as a part of outreach on the streets of San Francisco on Feb.

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