0530.
I wake to the sound of a homeless man
pushing his shopping carts along the bicycle lane,
yelling at another homeless man ahead of him.
The wind rustles fallen autumn leaves.
Breakfast.
School kids are funneling into the library parking lot
toward the pedestrian crossing, carrying backpacks,
walking alone and in small groups,
quiet kids and animated ones,
some slogging along,
others walking with a lilt to their step.
Morning.
My neighbours come and go through the front door below me,
some off to work, some out for a retirement stroll,
some for a smoke break.
No smoking in this building, that’s the rule,
not even in the privately owned areas.
Some wear gloves for the chill.
One man is in a t-shirt, not even a sweater to keep him warm.
Brave soul.
Noon.
With tea, I watch hungry minds go to the library.
Books in, books out; entertainment, learning,
how carefully the tomes are carried in so many different hands,
tiny hands,
delicate hands with painted nails,
manicured hands,
callused hands,
gloved hands.
Afternoon.
School is over for the day.
The students return home.
Most look more energized after school than before.
There is laughter now and a large group of students
sits cross-legged on the grass by the library,
eating pizza by the slice,
and talking between mouthfuls with animated gestures.
They all obediently throw their waste into the garbage receptacle.
Good kids.
Supper.
There are several delivery people pushing buttons on the intercom system,
delivering delicacies to hungry bellies
from their heat-retaining containers.
A young woman walks down the sidewalk
eating a submarine sandwich,
wiping her mouth with a disposable napkin after each bite.
Dusk.
Yet another young couple is breaking up under the big tree at the library.
It’s happened so frequently that
I’ve started calling it the Break-Up Tree.
The girl is weeping. Probably her boyfriend broke up with her this time.
Last week, a girl broke up with her boyfriend
under the tree and he followed her
all the way down the sidewalk,
sometimes pleading with her,
other times yelling at her and calling her names.
Love seems to bring out all the emotions.
Previously.
Once I worked at a seniors’ home in a small town.
New residents always wanted a quiet suite at the back of the building,
overlooking the forest,
where deer would wander onto the lawn below the windows.
But soon after,
many of those new residents would want to get on the waiting list
to move to the front of the building
overlooking the parking lot,
where children and dog-walkers wandered past on the sidewalk,
and staff and visitors would come and go from the front entrance,
where the life of humans was taking place.
Through a window, the world entertains and amazes.