Twenty minutes passed as mother and infant watched two squirrels chase each other up and down a tree while a third rummaged around in the dirt. A cold wind blew, the mother hastily swaddled her baby back in the stroller and hurried down the street. A frown crossed the old woman’s face and her eyes flew open. She reached for her walker and shuffled hurriedly to the window.
She had seen him before, the man standing in the middle of the street. Oblivious to his presence, cars drove past without slowing. The young man who had moments before begun thinking about his life more deeply than he had in years, abruptly rose and went into
his house. And the woman stared at the man who she had seen before as he glared into her window. In several steps he was at her curb, in a couple more he was at her steps and with a few short bounds he was at her door. He did not ring the bell. He did not knock. He stood defiantly, his hot breath melting the screen.
The old woman grabbed her walker and hurried back to her chair. She tripped, and just as she began to fall, regained her balance. Breathing a prayer of thanks, she reached her chair, adjusted the pillow behind her back, and closed her eyes. Not to sleep. No, not that.
to be continued . . .