Seen and heard in transit

backpack for a pillow
Walking early, first on the rails, balancing. It's one of my favorite things. Later, past kids waiting for the bus. One girl had made her backpack into a pillow and was lying on the cold ground, knees bent. Other kids were standing around. One of the kids, his eyes and mine met. I smiled and looked away.

red leaves
Driving to the dentist, past maples whose leaves are still bright red. I keep meaning to gather some bright-red leaves and make a leaf wreath. I daydream about doing this each year, but I never have. My chances are almost past for this year, too. Of course the leaves would dry and curl and fade right away, but it's the chance to handle that momentary brightness and make something. I can't add at all to their beauty but if I can *use* their beauty, then I'll feel like I've participated in it.

open faces
On the way into the medical building, a silver-haired woman with a walker and a silver-haired man, walking beside her. I don't know even the barest speck about their joys and troubles; all I can tell you is that both their faces seemed open and serene.

hard times
In the building, a thin woman on a cell phone, pacing by the stairwell. "Yeah, I've been having a hard time . . . The kids? They're not little anymore. My daughter's 15 and my son is 13, will be 14 at the end of the month . . ." Does talking on a cell phone confer its own privacy?

maybe tomorrow
After the dentist, passing those red leaves again, but I can't stop, because I have a job waiting at home. And just now I've finished the job, but it's dark out. So maybe I'll try tomorrow.