The Crossing Guard

I have a relationship with the crossing guard on Main Street. I grin wildly at her to express my  appreciation for what she does. She gets up each morning, sometimes in horrible, winter weather to make sure some of the children in our fair city don’t get squished by cars. In turn, she lets me know I’m her favorite driver. She does this by warming her stern face with a slight smile when I stop well before others who try to skirt the authority of her handheld stop sign.

Delores (I call her that because she reminds me of Delores Landingham from The West Wing) and I have grown close over the years. I can tell when she’s not feeling on top of her game. She handles her stop sign with a little less gusto and she doesn't scoot her charges as quickly across the street. And it’s easy to see when Delores views the steady stream of cars she commands as the enemy. However, I am the exception. I am the one who stops. I am her partner in traffic safety. I provide the buffer between her and the deadly caravan of commuters who are out to flatten all the babies.

There are times when I think she’ll motion for me to pull over to a side street. I’ll find a group of her kids gathered to greet me and give me a huge trophy they made themselves. The trophy will read:

TO THE HANDSOME, CHARISMATIC MAN IN THE VW WHO SAVES OUR LIVES EACH DAY – YOU ARE THE BEST, MOST COURTEOUS AND BRAVEST DRIVER IN OUR CITY – YOUR WIFE AND CHILDREN ARE THE LUCKIEST PEOPLE ON THE PLANET – WE ALL WISH YOU WERE OUR DAD INSTEAD OF THE INADEQUATE MEN FATE FORCED ON US

So far that hasn't happened. In fact, now I’m wondering if it will happen at all.

This morning Delores was toting her big orange cone to the center of crosswalk. She was about three feet away from the edge of the sidewalk and I made the decision that it was far enough for me to get by and still get a friendly nod. Instead Delores narrowed her eyes and shook her head. . . AT ME. I'm her partner. I'm the only driver who has her back. Even if she was closer to the curb than I thought I believed our relationship was strong enough to allow for a little wiggle room. But there is no wiggle room. It's obvious all Delores is about is, "What have you done for me lately." This morning she took what we had together and threw it away.

I've calmed down since the incident. I've looked at the situation and while I'm not willing to forgive, I am willing to live and let live. As in, I'm willing to literally allow her to live and not to hit the accelerator and launch Delores into one of the oak trees that lines Main Street.

Stay vigilant, Delores. You broke my heart and that little stop sign doesn't mean crap to me anymore.