Walking Home

This week, I began in earnest my plan to ride the bus to and from work on the weeks that I don't have to take the kids to school. I've always enjoyed using public transportation, probably because I've lived my whole life in a city that doesn't really use or value public transportation. And, being an infrequent patron, I've probably romanticized the notion.

But today, the part of my journey that struck a chord wasn't the bus ride but the walk home.

It is a bright, sunny, cloud-free day. According to the Mission Bank thermometer, it is 58 degrees. The sunshine makes it feel warmer, but an occasional breeze reminds me that summer isn't making an early appearance. The breeze makes my hooded sweatshirt proud to do its job.

I push the cross-walk button and wait patiently for the red hand to give way to the white stick figure. Birds are singing. People are out walking. A police car rolls by with its lights flashing, but not in pursuit of anyone. The final bits of another eight hours of work day experiences start to blow away while the first tiny particles of "I'm home!"-excitement sweep in behind them.

All of this suddenly reminds me of walking home from school in second grade. It was days like this when I would stuff my jacket in my backpack in mini-rebellion towards Mom and in reverence towards Spring and the warmer days to come. Of course, I'd pull out that jacket and put it back on a block from home so that Mom wouldn't know I hadn't been wearing it. Of course, she would find out anyway.

There was a crossing guard that would guide me safely across the street then. In addition to birds singing, I would hear geese honking; one house kept several of them as pets rather than the more conventional dogs or cats. And I would stop the police if they were driving by to see if they had any Royals baseball cards left to hand out. I would look forward to getting home and riding my Big Wheel in the driveway or playing with my Star Wars guys in the front yard.

A lot of things have changed since I was in second grade. Today, I kept my jacket on and didn't encounter any geese. And my Chevy Metro, while small, is no Big Wheel. But I'm glad some things remain the same.