Orange

I drive down the hill and park in the parking lot, so I can run some errands. Next to the corner of the lot, a young Hispanic boy is sitting next to several bags of oranges he is selling. He is wearing an American flag bandana. A colorful image that reminds me that I should always carry my camera with me. I admire his patience sitting all day in one spot, just to sell a few bags of oranges.

I usually park in this lot and then walk around the block, taking the long way to run my errands, so I can get a little exercise. I decide on a pit-stop at Mickey-Ds today — a place I rarely enter — but the smell of French fries wafting through the air lures me through the door, like a rodent following the Pied Piper. I order some small fries from the young man behind the counter. His name tag says Leonardo — to which I wonder aloud — if he is named for the painter or the Ninja turtle. Grinning back, he says he hopes — the painter.

My French bakery has some small apple tarts today, not only do they smell great, but they look beautiful — the slices are shaped and arranged to resemble a flower. I sit down on the bench outside the bakery for a bit after the apple tart purchase, to soak up some sun. In the other parking lot across the street  I observe a sign that reads” “Make the Dimond glitter, pick up your litter”. Below it are several discarded cups and cans – a memorial to illiteracy it seems. A car drives by, the bass emanating from it causing the nuts and bolts of the vehicle to groan in unison. A car parked at the curb shrieks in distress — its alarm triggered by this unexpected disturbance. I think its time to safely bring my apple tart home.

Have a blessed week, and may an apple tart cross your path.