I am all about cruising in my car nowadays, but I know — all too well the trauma of pedestrian life. Deep inside it ought to make me more apt to yield to people crossing in cross walks.
Today, I was driving through a shopping center parking lot at a slow and smooth speed. A woman, though not a ‘pedestrian’ in every connotation of the word because she was just walking from her parked car to the super market, was about to approach the path to walk across the two lanes from the parking spots to the store. She was white about sixty-ish with gray hair, wearing a pink short sleeved shirt and jeans. Though of age she didn’t really remind me of the grandmother type, but she kind of haunts my heart as the loving crossing guard working at an elementary school.
Now, if she had not have stopped, I would have stopped. It would not have been a hard break or anything since I was driving slow and smooth and was still several yards away. BUT she DID stop… so I kept cruising along. Then she shook her finger. She did not ‘give me the finger’, she wagged her finger. She wagged her finger and looked at me with severe disgust and disappointment. I felt bad.
I felt small and childlike. Suddenly chastised but always innocent, except when blatantly caught. She reminded me of one of my mentors who instilled so much into my life and who knew how to ostensibly reprimand anyone. Any child or youth she knew or did not know but was willing to wag back in line. Memories.
I am at a low point in life’s journey, but at greater heights I am well aware that I have been able to accomplish much because of the people around me that love me and want the best for me. Right now, I am particularly grateful for ‘the counselor’ and ‘the teacher’.
Packing up my camp in the valley
about to take a hike
humbled by the wagging finger
wishing I had stopped.
