On the way

Now that the weather is nicer, with coffee traveling mug in hand, I walk the half mile to school and work.  It's a lovely time to collect my thoughts and daydream a bit as I enjoy the sights and sounds of my neighborhood.  There are also all kinds of ordinary wonderful things to be seen, which are perfect walking partners for daydreaming and organized meandering.

There's a lilac bush on my way, where I picked up a hitchhiking inchworm once, and I picked him out of my hair several hours later.  Near the lilac, is a curious sight I have been wondering about all spring: a tea bag which is tied to a bush branch.  Every time I see it I think of making tea for little songbirds.  It's a rather ridiculous thought, but maybe there's a children's story that could take off from there.

Also on my way is an elementary school, and on every corner from the school to my school is a crossing guard.  Now, having been a crossing guard once a upon a time, I can tell that they are a different lot than I was.  First of all, they mean business.  I would never dream about crossing them (ha) or not following their directions if I was a young walker.  Second, they are so busy!  When I was a crossing guard, there was only one corner in our jurisdiction and we would be lucky if we helped two students and saw a handful of cars.  My memories include getting up very early and getting very bundled up, and then bracing myself against the wind and shifting my weight back and forth-- all the while keeping the flag pole plastered to my boot.  After a while, it froze there I wouldn't have to worry about it touching the ground.

Sometimes I even ask my neighborhood crossing guards if they would help me cross the street, sometimes they relent, though I get the feeling that it's against protocol.  Mostly I just smile, sometimes I say "good morning".  I wonder what they must think of me, walking the opposite way of all their patrons with coffee cup in one hand, book in the other.  Do they think me eccentric or just another part of their morning?  I will be sad, however, when their school year is done and their seriousness, their jeers at one another, and civic responsibility are not my more accompaniment to my morning meandering.