A Walk

It was still sunny, so I decided to walk to the downtown grocer's for a few ingredients I needed to make vegetarian lasagne. When we finally got out the door, a young boy who lives down the street started walking with me. He asked me about our cat and we chatted. We started to approach of group of three girls around the same age as him -- maybe 10ish? 12ish? -- and he suddenly said, "Gotta go," and veered back in the direction we just came from, putting his headphones back on.

The girls were whispering and giggling and looking behind them. When they saw me, they stopped and let me pass. I smiled at them as I passed, figuring one of them had a crush on the boy or something. I hadn't gotten far from them when one of them suddenly demanded, "Do you know what we're talking about?!"

"No," I replied innocently.

"See," said one of them to another, "You're retarded."

I turned around again. "But I can tell it must be important. And Top Secret."

"It is! It's very secret!" the girl in the middle said with defiance.

I turned and continued walking. The girl called after me, "It's about our pet snail. He just died. We're planning a funeral, and we're going to invite all his snail friends."

I imagine they started laughing.

This last bit irritated me. Why the hell should I care what they're talking about? And I certainly don't care enough to merit a cover-up lie like that. Brats! I decided I am officially a curmudgeon.

A little ways on, I stopped to snap a pic of a turquoise tap and its shadow sticking out of a plain gray wall. A woman and her child walked by, and I remembered that I'd seen them the day before at my neighbourhood playgroup. She stopped, and said, "I'm curious. What are you shooting?"

So I pointed to the tap: "That tap and its shadow. I seem to obsessed with shadows these days. I think because they're such a treat this late in November."

We had a conversation and introduced ourselves formally, and it was nice to discover that she actually lives in our neighbourhood and isn't just hijacking our playgroup the way some others do.

Later, I noticed a shiny silver-grey Vespa outside a tattoo shop, just as a young guy exited the shop for a smoke.

"Is that your bike?" I asked.

He looked surprised. "No." He leaned against the tattoo shop's window and lit his smoke.

I walked on. But then I stopped. Turned. And raised my camera to my eyes. If it's not his bike, I don't need to ask his permission. And I kinda want a picture of him, because his blue boxers are hanging out of his pants.

I kept snapping, when another guy, who looks a bit like Ben from So You Think You Can Dance but punkier, came out of the shop.

"Are you still nervous?" he asked the other guy.

I didn't hear the first guy's response as he ran over to the door, probably to get away from the crazy lady with the stroller taking pictures of the Vespa.

"C'mon. It's just cartilage," the second guy cajoled as he lit his smoke.

I stopped shooting and continued on to the store.

At the store, I saw a young guy, not as young as the one outside the tattoo shop, who in turn wasn't as young as the one outside my door. He was rockin' out by the meat section. I couldn't even hear the music, but it was cute. He was doing a good finger dance.

On my way home, the sun sank lower and lower and the sky behind me got pinker and pinker. I saw some seagulls fly overhead and marvelled at the way their bellies glowed pink from the sun, set off against the still-blue sky behind them. I thought about taking a picture, but figured I wouldn't be fast enough. I just enjoyed the sight instead.

I walked down my street on the home stretch, and smelled gas. I wondered if I should run away, if Swee'pea was in danger. I pictured us suddenly getting blown up and forward like in the movies and felt really, really sad. It reminded me of that Grey's Anatomy episode when Kyle Chandler made a guest appearance. We got to know him through the whole two to-be-continued episodes and then right at the end as he walks away holding the ammunition like the most precious little preemie, he got blown up. I cried watching that. But probably mostly because I had the biggest crush ever on Kyle Chandler when he was on a show called Homefront and I was so pleased to see him again. I loved that show when I was about 16 or so. And I loved him and his character.