Neck of the Woods

Just another typical Sunday morning, gray, overcast, and cold has presented itself at the break of light. Take a deep breath and a slug of coffee and face the day.

Spiderman has crawled out of his tree and is now sitting beside the porch, his Santa cap on a tilt. There is more traffic than usual on the quiet street in the quiet neighborhood. Perhaps the figure cloaked in the black hood cap forebodes something evil, like death.

Speed up to move into the traffic pattern, attempting not to be a target. A few hearty souls jog, the moister forming clouds in their mouths. Their effort, while perhaps futile, is appreciate. One brightly color woman passes with a yellow iPod directing her pace. “Why?” I wonder, can’t people enjoy the sights and sounds and smells of the day without being manipulated by electronics?

The surroundings blend and flow without the involvement of our species that vision themselves as masters. Colors change, placement, direction, light, growth are happening every second, but we blur by them without a notice.

New paint job on that house, a new house being constructed (that’s a good sign), different automobile over there, all familiar, all interesting, all fascinating in the manner of enjoying life. Simple pleasures of discovery are relished as the journey continues.

The police car still sits by the church. “Why?” I still wonder. It’s a church. Then I remember the sights of the morning news and wonder how many of us would guard our possessions with sticks and knives? And that church, where I spent so many years being told how to believe and paying for it, was it only physiological training?

To see human nature, without forceful control, lower itself to the basic level is frightening. Anger has something to do with it. Mob rule flaming the emotions, but there are deeper fears of instincts that show themselves during these times. If one projects a future of muslin nations overthrowing the entire region of the globe, with the history a government’s approach of invading via the modern day crusades, then ponders the idea of panic in the streets as seen over the airwaves…. Ride on.

A stop for a water break and to defog the glasses creates time to reflect on the environment. The air is filled with the sweet smell of dryer sheets mixed with the pungent odor of gasoline and oil. The sleepy city is still quiet with only the occasional conversation by a pedestrian speaking to the air or the young ladies excited about going to a coffee shop, “Well she said…”.

Having the small brown birds appreciate the meager amount of seed left over from yesterday with a morning wake-up song is enough for me. Open the eyes to let the cold wind into the body’s core while taking a deep breath stills the thoughts, but the body pushes onward. Up the hill by the line of buses taking worshipers in mass. Watching the woman look both ways up and down the four-lane road, then looking again for a safe moment to escort two small children and a dog across the busy highway. Passing a street sign and remembering a different time and place.

Returning as the sun breaks through, the first part of this uneventful yet different routine has been accomplished. The body will cool and be replenished and move onto the next assignment on my bucket list.

Just another day in my neck of the woods.