Every day, almost, except Sunday when they're closed, I walk to the corner store. It's about half a mile away, say. They don't have everything we need at all times, but they have most everything, and the other stuff, well, it can wait. I dress for the weather and don't worry because I know I'm going to go - no decision to fret about. I carry a tote bag or two, and buy what we want for the day. Yesterday it was bananas, orange sherbet, and V-8.

Those who work there have faces that are familiar. They say, how you doing, and I say I'm alright, how about you, and they say good, good.

It feels very good coming back with the goods in my bag, not a chore, even when it's a little heavy. The dogs along the way have come to know me, and wag their tails, barking just enough for government work and no more. My feet know where the cracks in the sidewalk are, and to cross the street where there's the least traffic. There's the school crosswalk man with his reflective vest. Sometimes, kids are out walking to school, or riding their bikes. They look so unguarded, so real; you can tell the weather by their gait, by their faces, by the pitch of their voices.