The Drive

I drive to work every day, the same exact streets, the same turns, joining in the traffic of the morning almost rush hour.  I marvel how despite the fact we are in the middle of town, people must feel they are on the in town interstate at the speeds being driven.  I marvel too, that usually I feel the urge to push the pedal to the medal too, but something stops me from driving too fast.  People. 

People walking along the side of the road, kids waiting for school buses, shoppers who have no other mode of transport and must carry their bags back and forth from home to the shops.

Where are they going?  I see the small kids gathered in a bunch on the corner waiting for the bus, swinging backpacks back and forth. I see the dad who walks with his son’s hand in his waiting for the traffic to pass so they can cross the street safely.  I see the younger man walking ahead of his mother on their way to the grocery. I know that is where they are headed because I’ve seen them at the store.  

I see the mothers pushing strollers along the weed filled sidewalks towards a small convenience store in all kinds of weather.   People are alive in this town, the people that live along this busy road, who walk along the concrete curbs headed toward shops, bus stops, restaurants. 

 

When we slow down and pay attention we see them.  If we don’t, we don’t know they exist. But what are we if we don’t see people?  See them as individuals?  As belonging to our town?  They are still people; but then…are we?