As I hurled several items into my outside trash collector, I looked across the street.
A little boy who is seldom seen outside was standing at the perimeter of his driveway, holding an action figure of some sort. I was very surprised to see him.
As I looked, he waved with gusto. “Hi! What’s your name?”
In a thundering voice, I replied, “X!” (For newcomers, I replied with the 24th letter of the alphabet only because that’s my name. It would have confused him had I replied, “Slartibartfast,” or “Susanna.”)
Before I could say anything else, the boy seemed to become confused and turned away, walking back into the shadowy garage.
I knew he’d turn to see if I was still looking his direction.
I waved as enthusiastically as I could, to let him know I wasn’t as crazy as I sounded.
He waved with joy as if attempting to wave down a passing boat after 6 months on an isolated island in the Pacific.
And so, the day begins.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 