The Nice Thing About Strangers
Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
Spring Training
The humidity hasn’t kicked in yet. So the parks are packed with people: joggers, parents with strollers, cyclists, pet owners, families having picnics. At the site of one such picnic, the extended family in attendance heads to a nearby patch of grass for a wayward game of football. Most passes are dropped, most formations are uneven, most plays dissolve into laughter. A man returning from a run stretches nearby. He turns to look behind him at a woman who gestures that she’ll be powerwalking just a bit longer. He nods, then gazes at the family. He puts a hand on the hood of his XTerra and balances on one foot. He squats, he stretches, rests his sunglasses on his head and wipes sweat from his eyes.
He had a good run. Congratulating himself with a quick set of half-hearted push-ups, he is finally tired. He waits on the woman and casually takes in the football game. He twitches a bit, as though he might like to join them, as though he might enjoy taking part in the laughter of the nearby family. Or maybe he’s just spent. He drops his sunglasses over his eyes and takes a seat. A father-figure in the game fumbles on purpose, to the delight of his children, their cousins, and the patient jogger resting on a nearby parking block.
–Omaha, Nebraska
The Nice Thing About Strangers 