jumpingfish

1. Bun Run

A good day for a taco.  The sky was grey but not ominous.  The temperature was comfortable.  A slight breeze blew as I put a book under my arm and walked out the door to go to Torchy’s.

A mile into the walk, I came to the big street and waited for the light to turn.  On the other side, there were police cars with flashing lights and barricades blocking some of the traffic and police officers standing around. And there were people walking in one lane of the big street that was cordoned off.

I had forgotten about the Bun Run; these were the walkers at the end of the race.  I crossed the street quickly, hoping to beat the crowd for a migas taco.

2. Fluffy Dogs

I sat outside with my cup of coffee and a hot taco with more migas on it than would stay contained between the corn tortillas.  My eyes rolled back in my head with pleasure as I set down my book and used two hands to make sure the eggs and cheese and tomatoes and avacado and onion and peppers stayed put.

Some ladies sitting next to me tried to get their dogs to behave.  Five ladies and four dogs.  One of the dogs seemed to think the small, fluffy ones were breakfast.  He snarled and growled and lunged, but his owner had him on a short leash and pulled him back.

The fluffy ones were Pomeranians — a white one and a brown one.  Nothing but balls of fluff.  And they barked their non-bark bark trying to meet that nice dog on the other side of the table who was now on a very short leash facing in the other direction yawning from the stress of it all.

The ladies’ tacos arrived as I finished mine. The restaurant was now quite full of runners and walkers, and it didn’t seem right to fill up a table just to read, so I gulped down my coffee, tucked my book under my arm and got up to walk home.

3. Good Morning for a Hello

Back at the big street, I waited at the light again.  The race was done, all the straggling walkers evidently finished. The cordons on the street had already been removed. Across the street a man was waiting to cross. The light changed, and he and I waited for all the left turn traffic to turn.  The walk light came on, and we both stepped out into the street.

He was wearing a black sweather with grey hounds-toothing on the front.  It was windy but not cold, so that caught my attention.  I watched him as we approached each other.  And he watched me.

As we got closer to each other, I smiled and nodded. He scowled.  The sun was coming out; maybe it was in his eyes.

As we passed each other, I said, “Hello.”  It really was a perfect morning for a hello, I thought.  I smiled again, but his scowl turned sour.  He squinted his eyes and seemed to say something to me, and he returned my gaze and then spat at my feet.

Good morning for a hello, indeed.