I walked in our neighborhood recently and crossed paths with a woman, a young girl, and their dog. I assumed it was a mother and daughter—maybe the woman was a nanny, relative, or family friend. I assumed that the dog was theirs too. The girl looked like she was three or four years old and the dog looked like a terrier mix, with fawn colored fur, a broad muscular chest, and a black snout like a Cur. He was leashed and as I walked closer to them, he slowly positioned himself in front of the girl and didn’t take his eyes off me. She waved and smiled shyly. When I waved and smiled back, she smiled even more and the dog visibly relaxed. Then the woman waved too.
The park and school are just a block away from our house and a gathering place for families, grade school children, and older youth. It was an early fall day, and the sky was deep blue. I looked back at them as I walked further and saw the girl and dog looking back at me too, so I waved at her again. Then I turned and pulled my hood over my head. It wasn’t cold, but it felt stealth and cozy. I was grateful that she didn’t see me with my hood up from the start and happy that my head and face were visible. She may not have been so open to interacting.
While I walked my usual loop around the park, further north, then west and back home, I thought back to when our daughter ran through the park with us and with her friends when she was very young. When she played on the equipment, we’d lift her up so she could grab on to the maypole spinner. Sometimes she was flung into the wood chips below as we slowly increased the speed. The first time it happened it startled her and I was alarmed. I lurched forward to pick her up and stopped because I remembered my wife mentioning that If I didn’t show concern, she probably wouldn’t either. From then on, we laughed when it happened and she’d ask us to spin her again.
Songs :: I Am the Black Gold of the Sun by Nuyorican Soul, Trans Continental by Shaggy Mane, Goodbye by The Sundays, and Late Show by Laurie Anderson
© C. Davidson