12.10.15
Him: Good morning.
Me: Good morning.
A simple exchange, but you see, he’s a school crossing guard and I am neither a school child nor the parent of one. He presides there on the corner of two crosswalks every school day. A neon yellow vest, a handheld stop sign, and a penchant for small talk. I’m a pedestrian without a small child tugging on my attention, and so am able to check for cars/pass quickly across one of the crosswalks under his guard. He doesn’t need to raise that stop sign for me.
Instead, he offers me a warm greeting.
Maybe it’s that crossing guards are a rare breed of kindness or maybe this is a look into my future (kids, school days) via a crystal ball crossing guard?
Abigail Mumford 