Safety. Harold asks me about it now and then: "Do you feel safe...?" In the dark, alone, on the ice, in the snow, whatever. He's asked about it all. Of course I tell him "Yes."
Then I fell on the ice the other day. It's OK, there's a solution to that. A teacher friend advises I use an old pair of sneakers and some short screws turned a few twists into the soles. The ice is melting anyway.
As for would-be evil-doers, I think they're sleeping so early in the morning. Speaking of which, I saw the dawn emerge today. Lovely.
Snow is a non-issue, thanks to my hulking snow-gear, and then there's wildlife - of the human, the canine, and the feline variety. Some surprising developments began to occur last week.
About last Wednesday, I happened to suddenly notice a rather large four-legged creature eying me. Frightening indeed. Mountain lion? Ears too rounded, tail too short and furry, muzzle to long. Fox? Tail too long, too stringy. I swore to wear a whistle the next day. Bear mace, guns, and other weaponry generally inviting trouble at school, a whistle seemed inspirational. Frightening to the animal, safe at school, if a bit loud for sleeping residents.
The next day, me whistle-less, there it was again. Persistently licking something trapped in the ice, completely engrossed. Oblivious as well to an on-coming car, which luckily stopped. A German Shepherd. Friendly too, that or a bit slow. It only moved when the car beeped.
So, there's a dog on my way to school. Maybe if a mountain lion happens along, this canine will come to my assistance. A whistle and dog treats.
Then this morning the distinct sounds of a wild-animal struggle. Sudden silence, and then they darted. First a house-cat, followed closely by a large fox. I saw them. Unsettling, however, I'm a lot bigger than that fox. Hopefully its sense of balance will keep him at bay. Must remember the whistle tomorrow.
Lastly, the human. Unpredictable, distracted while driving, compelled, living wild in an apparently civilized world. As I approached an intersection close to the high school, traffic stopped, I began to inter the walk way. Then a Toyota logo, growing large in my peripheral vision, registered in my cerebral cortex. "Back up!" my brain shouted at my legs, and I did. Horns honked. Dirty looks were heaped upon the errant driver, who suddenly jerked to a halt. I waved and smiled as I finally, safely crossed, grateful for my life. That driver has been me. I hope she takes the lesson without guilt, and carries her learning to her next car trip and those ever-after.
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