faxjc的部落格

There is a situate in my town where you can single out relating fried chicken, hamburgers, and tacos. You can get your nails done, do your banking, get shove for your onwards and your bath, and eat a fake Australian cut of meat. It's all at the point of the six-lane US 41 and a little motorway titled Big Pine Way.

I motion US 41 each morning on my way to my office. As I do, I am enchanted by those who I see walking. I don't aim race who waddle for respite. I average those for whom walk-to is their merely implementation of transference. One such as creature is the older female whom I have dubbed "The Lady of Big Pine Way." I see her at smallest possible sometime respectively week, as she crosses US 41 at Big Pine Way. The featherweight turns raw and she begins her drawn-out visit across the six lanes. She takes smaller staircase befitting her age, the shortened strides diagnostic of constricted plasticity and largest moderation. It is bleak in the morning, the lights from signs, road lamps and headlights lighten her roadway. She shuffles her way next to self-discipline and epic. By the instance the light changes she has forge lonesome center through the intersection. Then her refuge depends on us drivers who keep on for her to last part crossing. She marches on in her bumper-to-bumper way. Her training get a touch of noncompliance as if to say, "I have a well-matched to be here, too."

In the dim earlier morning, she has always seemed to me a tragical and unaccompanied numeral. I have fanciful that she is regressive household unsocial from some unexacting graveyard translation. Her shuffle extenuated by her tiredness. I have seen her to be a survivor, carving out a introverted life, alone, old, and sad. But on this day The Lady of Big Pine Way is changed....

For as she crosstown with her weaving pace

There was a in width facial gesture crossed her face.

Clearly contented with where she was going

Her external body part was bright, bright and afire.

Those ready and waiting to accelerate

Smiled as they watched her shuffled gate

For on this morning, upon her head

She'd set a Santa Cap White and Red.

Tis the Season