Observations on a Monday Afternoon: What Surrounds You?

Greetings all on a day I have to think is reserved for pacific coasts. I feel like I should be in Santa Cruz with the wispy clouds carrying across the sky, propelled by chilly breezes to accentuate the sun, bold and warm up above. A halo of evergreens encapsulates the parking lot filled with cars washed clean by weeks of rain. Some few bare trees climb up from concrete planters garnished with pansies - gold, blue, purple, maroon, white - that have all seen better days. Next to the cafe door stands an ash tray where cigarette butts stand in front of their reflection, brown against the white of the "no smoking" sign. Next to the ash tray, a planter box where a week before two parents neglected to notice their children tearing apart the daisies. Birds - small black indistinct ones that probably have a name no one seems to know - they provide a soundtrack drowning out conversations from neighboring patio tables. These conversations undertaken by people who seem unwilling to look each other in the eye, distracted by cell phones and coffee cups and glances into the blinding reflection of the sun off cars in the parking lot.

Here is an ebb and a flow of humanity as those passing by cross paths with those just lingering. Mothers who drag their children en route to the CVS are forced to negotiate a herd of cafe patrons, gently strolling in front of the store either chatting on cell phones or sipping some beverage out of a monotonous ceramic mug. The passersby seem not to notice as one or two casual newspaper readers glance up with an intrigued look in their eyes. They are bearing witness to the human experience - perhaps one they have had themselves or, if not, one that they can easily formulate and play in their minds. "This is parenthood" they tell themselves. And for me, it could be what is to come. Or, it could be a warning, a point for consideration. Anything, I suppose, can happen when observing the human condition on a sunny winter day.