I sit here, every day, and watch the world drive by me. There went the hulking bruiser; his shaved head and neat goatee accompanied by the Pekingese sitting daintily in the passenger seat. A few cars ago it was the camper driven by the black man with his hat angled jauntily over his left eye. The bus drivers all know me well enough to wave. Just as I know that in about twenty minutes the Hispanic man with his bass turned up full volume will thump his way through the intersection. He goes home at the same time every weekday and his stereo is always playing the same part of the same song every time he drives past my house.
I find I enjoy the people-watching. I get a kick out of seeing people, so intent on getting home to their wives and husbands, parents and children, lovers or pets. The little old men and women drive by in their tanks, peering myopically over their steering wheels. The soccer moms and weekend warriors drive by with frazzled expressions, trying to get Little Johnny to settle down for just five more minutes until they make it home. Some days it's only the same people, at the same times, but on others I get a treat. When the ice cream truck jingles its way by, the heads of children (and the young at heart) pick up and the heartbeat quickens. There's nothing quite like the anticipation of a sticky, cold ice cream treat from the ice cream man on a hot Summer day - except maybe that first lick.
Then there are the people that walk by. So many people go by my house on the way to the park, school, the bus or a friend's house. The children sit on my brick wall while they wait for the bus. They smile at me and tell me "Hi." I hear all about the hard assignments and tests or the fun things they plan on doing that day. The teenagers come by in twos and threes and hordes. They might wave, depending on who they're with. The people making that quick run down to the corner store give a friendly nod as they trudge up the hill weighted down with their milk and bread. After all, why drive when it's only a few blocks? We still walk around a bit in this neighborhood. There are the exercisers: older couples walking to stay fit and the younger men and women jogging up and down the hill with their headsets keeping pace.
My old friends are all but gone. Only a few of the older people from this neighborhood are left. I see them occasionally as I sit here, watching the world drive by. It reminds me of days and nights gone by. The saying "The more things change, the more they stay the same" is absolutely true. When I sat here many years ago with my husband and small children, I saw the same kinds of things: people going to or coming from work, church or friends' houses; children going to school or play. The faces and the cars may have changed, but not the people behind those faces or wheels. They still have the same dreams and desires: to make theirs and their families' lives just a little better and happier - maybe even to change the world in some small, positive way.
I sit here, every day, and watch the world drive by me.
I can't promise that this will be updated often. I can't even promise that the writing will be decent. That's what happens when you put your pen down for years at a time between writing anything. I can promise that I will try to improve my writing as I go.