Monday, April 20, 2009

A Stroll at Midnight

Out for a nice little walk with Roxie, plug her into her stroller and tuck a fuzzy blanket up around her.

We start off together into the fresh Spring air. Finally Spring, another dose of it anyway after the twists and turns of the moody Utah weather.

Walking, steadily, over bumps in the sidewalk, around mailboxes and trash cans, someone has left a broken coffee table kneeling at an angle, missing some of its legs.

The train whistle off in the distance is part of the fabric, a thread of sound connected with the steady clickity clack of the stroller.

We pass by some students, some in a group, chatting and laughing, another gazing in appreciation at the stars as he stands outside his friends house waiting for the door to be answered.

The stars, I can't help gazing too, veering off the sidewalk a bit at times as I walk and stare at the patterns and twinkling, the different hues and brightnesses. It is awe inspiring to be a part of it all.

We turn the corner and walk along the usually busy main road that connects all of the little side streets. Now eerily empty, lit by the tall streetlamps, shining a fuzzy orange glow.

With caution I approach the cross walk and try to peer around the cars parked on the street, it is difficult since the angle is awkward.

So with a bit of trepidation I walk out going slowly in case a car with a little too much speed and a little too much confidence decides to spin around the roundabout at the left, down the street.

I glance left then right and run across, unsure of my luck on the seemingly deserted street.

Then I follow along on the uneven, broken sidewalk which is lifted in places by tree roots and cluttered by trash and other debris. The air though is so clean, it feels good to be out.

I look about appreciatively at the cherry trees in bloom, at the peaceful desertion of the streets, the whole night serenity of the neighborhood.

I breath in the different scents in the air, damp earth, trees in bloom, and laundry softener, carried to me by the wind.

I can smell Suavital, a memory of a friend is evoked, how funny that scent can do that. So vivid the memory, it makes me reflect a bit, about times gone past.

I am brought back to attention by the need to cross into the street, so I lower the front wheels of the stroller and cross, then turn down a favorite part of the neighborhood, where many friends reside.

I see that Susan has her little vegetable garden started, good for her, we still need to get ours planted, on the agenda, again. We cross the street again, where a few towering pines grow and a little stream flows.

I squat next to Roxie and follow the stream with my eyes, it flows calmly, rippling over the little rocks in the bed. The sound of water tinkles in my ears and I am mesmerized until Roxie tells me "enough mommy," so I get going again.

Only to find that a glorious cherry tree is in bloom in the next yard. It looks so friendly and inviting I just want to embrace it. So I get up close and touch the blossoms with my finger tips and smell them appreciatively.

Moving on I spy another such tree across the street, this one's fate is sadder, it has fallen prey to the heavy snows of last week and several large branches are down. The sight makes me sad a little, so I go over to it, to commiserate with the tree a bit.

The blossoming branches lay drooping on the ground and I wish that I could restore them again. Again the urge to embrace the drooping branches comes to mind as a friend would to cheer up another.

I let Roxie get up close and she pats the flowers a bit. I break off a little branch, the main branch will die soon, it makes me sad to think of it. But I feel happy to have a little piece of beauty to carry with me as I stroll along.

We turn back and I notice other broken trees, hurt by the capriciousness of winter in the middle of Springs proceedings.

Back walking towards my home again I sigh as the stars twinkle and remember a friend. A friend who describes stars as the twinkling of a dream and this makes me smile.

Back across the street, the busy deserted street, flowing with ghost cars. I park the stroller and bring Roxie and her blanket inside. To curl up in a room comfortable from the open window, and air that smells like spring.

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