Fresh Eyes
It’s getting cold around here. We had a few false alarms–”Feels like winter is here to stay!”–and a couple days later it was 70, but today there was a good, from-the-ground-up edge to it that had us hunkering into our coats as we waited for the bus.
So we were staring at our shoes, younger son and I, instead of at the birds, the cars, the passersby; wedging our chins into the openings of our jackets and wondering whether it was time to look at the time again, when we noticed something on the sidewalk.
You see, last summer a new water main was installed, and there’s about thirty feet of fresh smooth concrete on this section of the block.
One word on one edge, another on the other, and eyes in a different direction.
