Lifey Bit #6: Flower Picking

->Click for Previous Lifey Bits<-

I’ve decided to just do one Lifey Bit at a time now, that way I can share more, and more often, and not worry over which ones to share so much.


 

I took the bike path to the train station, away from the psychotic drivers coming off the freeway and in the Town Center parking lot. It’s the long way to the station, but it is also the “scenic route” for pedestrians, as “scenic” as an urban setting can be.

The sun was shining, making the cement path bright, except for the one small tunnel the overpass creates, which was dark like a cave. On the right, the path is lined with crabgrass, pink and white wildflowers, and what I think is wild indigo. The sun glows off the yellow brush. The world is a white-yellow wash of ink with dabs of purple. Every time I pass, I wonder why pretty purple flowers would grow in such a litter and cement riddled wasteland, but I really just don’t know anything about flowers.

Once I went through the tunnel and emerged on the other side, I saw a young man. A little bit younger than me, perhaps. Tall and skinny, wearing a heavy tan coat despite the sunny day, and a backwards ballcap. He had just stopped and was looking around to see if there were any other people on the path, just missing me emerge. Seeing no one else, he went into the brush, bent down, and began digging at the flowers there. He picked the pink and white wildflowers, no care for the wild indigo.

I had stumbled upon a deer in a glen! Its head down in the grass, about to snap alert in fear at the sound of my movement! I wanted to watch, take careful steps toward him, take a picture. I was mesmerized.

When he noticed me walking toward him, he didn’t snap alert. He barely glanced my way but his hands lurched a little. He seemed to sag. His fingers took on a slow, clumsy movement, just touching the flowers absently. He was embarrassed, but stopping would prove it. The last person a young man wants to catch him in the act would be a young woman. I wanted to smile at him as I walked by, somehow show him I was endeared, but he didn’t look at my face. Saying anything would have made it worse. I just continued on to the train station.

What is he doing with those flowers now…?

-> Next Lifey Bit

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