Walk With Me

As I look out my office window, I notice that a few sprinkles are falling, creating dark spots on the asphalt alley that separates the church from the doctor's office next door. The drops are few and far between, and I can't help but think that they will do little to help the "drought emergency" that California now finds itself in.

In about an hour I will leave and walk three blocks to my son's middle school for a conference with his English teacher. I have my umbrella just in case. I don't think it will rain enough for me to worry about getting wet, but it is nice to keep the drops off my glasses. I guess a ball cap would have worked just as well, but I left that at home today.

Nevertheless, as I make my way, I wonder if I'll see someone I know drive by on the street. If so, they will more than likely pull over and ask if I need a ride. No doubt they'll be feeling sorry for me. No doubt they'll think I'm being overly polite (or perhaps stubborn) when I tell them "no thank you." No doubt they will feel guilty for leaving me there, walking down the street, in the rain.

It's 69 degrees outside right now. It's just a few drops of water, just enough to make the fragrance of the jacaranda trees and the recently mowed lawns that much more wonderful. It's only three blocks. And I've been sitting at my desk most of the day, yearning for the opportunity to stretch my legs.

Perhaps when I see them driving down the street, I'll feel sorry for them, and invite them to park the car, get out, and walk with me.