We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

"Yesterday morning met a man named Fred,
had a pinwheel on his handlebars
and a helmet on his head."


Really I did. An old man riding a bike to the grocery store, with a wagon on the back and a sign attached to the wagon, in large blue letters, that read "FRED".

But that was on the way to the store. After making my grocery stop, I decided to walk to my next destination, about 45 minutes away. Until I came to the pedestrian bridge right behind the store.

I walked to the top and scanned the skyline. I held back the urge to wave to all the drivers below. I thought, " Why, this is the poor person's vacation paradise." It was a beautiful day, and the sky was clear pale blue for miles.

When I reached the other side, I was on Portland Parkway, a silent freshly paved road with sparkles in the asphalt, and center islands manned by tall, soft pines. I started walking down the street through pieces of sunshine and shade. After three blocks or so, I realized I needed to start heading south and travel parallel to Stoughton Rd., the highway I had crossed, or I would end up maybe in the next county. So I began to get lost in the neighborhood. Plenty of lanes named after gemstones, Topaz, Diamond, etc. which I avoided turning into.

I found Acewood Blvd, a main road, so I followed that south until I found a park and headed further south towards Stoughton Rd., cutting through the empty park under blue sky.
I finally reached Cottage Grove Road. From there my only decisions were, do I head south on this or the other side of the bridge? Do I go back a few blocks and look for the bike path? Do I walk the railroad tracks and risk getting flattened by an oncoming train under the highway?

After having walked for ninety minutes already, I took the familiar path through the back of the YMCA, another empty park, and cut across to Elinor St. I said hello to Sandy and her little Bingo terrier (?) . I haven't talked to Sandy for months, and I'm going back again. We were missing each other.

After 45 minutes, on to my next destination. Sandy directed me to follow the outside road which would lead me to Buckeye Road and the pharmacy.

At 1:30, I started for home. I found it very funny to be the only person on foot at the intersection of a major health clinic, crossing a city highway. I realize the necessities of modern life, but I'm confused by the irony.

Walking through my neighborhood, I decided that I would rather live in a place where the streets are named after trees.

I reached home at 2:30. I had left home at 10:10.