Daily Drive

He drives down that street every day. Between the Junipers and Live Oaks and Cedar Elms and Texas Persimmons, the street winds along. It's the closest thing to a woods at this end of his daily drive. But there are apartments and office complexes and restaurants hidden between the greenery. And parking lots.

Still, there are those Junipers and oaks and elms. And persimmons. And there is the pond with the cattails and lilypads and the trail that goes around, where he ran once on a hot afternoon when the yellow flowers were blazing. And there is that winding street between the wannabe woods with a wide median full of trees and shrubs.

Even though it's far from a woods, it's good enough for the daily drive.

And today, there is this man in the shade on the sidewalk. There's a stroller nearby -- an empty stroller. And the man is carrying something. It's a boy, a little boy, with his arms flailing and his legs kicking and his face smiling. Clearly his dad chased him up the sidewalk a ways, both of them leaving the stoller abandoned for a moment. Just look at their smiles as the cars drive by.

Even though it's far from a woods, it's good enough for the daily drive.

And then, there is this woman in the sun on the corner on the sidewalk. There's no stroller in sight. She's carrying her boy piggyback. She's looking both ways, and he's got his arms around her neck. And his legs are wagging. And his face is smiling. And hers is, too. Just look at those smiles as the cars drive by.

Even though it's far from a woods, it'll do just fine for the daily drive.

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