Shouldn't…but Do

Walking Man spoke today.

Walking Man is part of a small subculture of people who regularly walk my neighborhood on any given day. I belong to that crew, as do my children, by extension.

It surprises me, from time to time, when I meet people who know me, yet we’ve never met. “I see you walking,” they say. I ask if they are out in their yards, and I have somehow missed them. “No, from the window,” they say. Ever sociable, I encourage them to come out when I walk by, but we both know they won’t.

Walking Man moves from north to south and back, I am circuitous myself. Found at almost any time of the day, young man, late teens, moves with loping gait, eyes straight ahead, no expression, no words, irritates the gentry by cutting across their lawns. Rarely out after dusk.

I cross paths with Walking Man frequently, usually on different sides of the street. It is not for exercise that Walking Man walks, nor for me. His motive I cannot guess, I walk to keep moving – toward something, away from something – each step punctuates a new experience entirely. Process, I guess.

Sunny and cold, Walking Man and I happened to be on the same side of the street this day, going opposite directions. We both said “hello,” and smiled. Walking Man looks younger with a smile. And Walking Man spoke. Punctuation.