Heaven bent to take my hand
Nowhere left to turn
I’m lost to those I thought were friends
To everyone I know
Oh they turned their heads embarassed
Pretend that they don’t see
But it’s one missed step
You’ll slip before you know it
And there doesn’t seem a way to be redeemed
–Fallen, Sarah McLachlan
I was walking from TheBus stop on Beretania Street along Keeaumoku. Once I crossed Young Street, I smelled something foul. There he was scanning the side of that green building that has weird stuff in it: massage parlor, nail salon, bar, sushi place? I could sense someone was behind me, and I thought it was the guy I saw. I turned around and was startled, but it was a guy on a power walk, listening to his iPhone.
At first I thought I’d write about what it must be like to be a man and to sense that you’ve scared a woman. You’re just a regular guy, meaning no malice, going about your business, and realize some woman is frightened of you. It could be someone  you’re standing with on the corner, crossing nearby in the parking lot into Safeway. My husband tells me it’s a sensation that really tears him up.
So the guy walks on, the other guy continues to search for cigarette butts (I guess), and I make it across King Street, passed theBus stop, passed Tanabe’s, and pass my homeless friend who sits on the wall, wearing the sunglasses I gave her. She has company. Two or three other lumps sleeping with their stuff, behind the temple.
I start thinking, in the old days families didn’t let their relatives go. They took care of them. And that’s when I fell, skinned my knee and got my pants dirty. Embarrassing. On my way down I thought that there wasn’t anything odd I stepped on. I felt pushed, perhaps by a Karmic reality check? What do I do that makes it possible for the universe to push my face into the sidewalk?
Quickly I got up, gathered my things, and hurried passed McDonald’s to get to work. Bloody knee. palms roadrashed.
I hope it’s the worst thing to happen to me today.

By lavagal

Hawaii Kai wife and mom. Melanoma Stage 3a Cancer survivor. English Language Arts teacher, English Learners Coordinator, and Paraprofessional Tutor. Super sub teacher. Dormant triathlete. Road cyclist and Masters swimmer. Gardener. Mrs. Fixit. Random dancer. Music Curator. A teenager trapped in an aging body. Did you know 60 is the new 40? It is.

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