Kathryn Nicolai

Along the bottom of the sill were a dozen small cacti in tiny pots

and I leaned in close to peer at one that had a minuscule pink flower on it.

I wondered how often a cactus might flower and thought it most likely not an everyday happening.

Yet here I was to witness it.

I smiled at my luck.

In the shop across the alley, a bicycle was being wheeled out the front door by a little kid and his dad.

The kid was wearing a helmet so new there was still a tag dangling from it.

He jumped with excitement to climb onto his new bike.

His dad put on his own helmet and climbed onto an older, well-used bike parked in the rack.

I heard dad say they could go through the park on their way home.

and ride through the neighborhood of old houses behind the library and probably still make it home before the rain came.

I watched them ride off and thought I should get my old roller skates out of the basement when I got home.

It had been a few years, but I bet I could still T-Stop and V-Start and Flamingo with the best of them.

At the corner was a shop that sold bird baths and wind chimes and bird feeders.

Giant sacks of birdseed were stacked beside the door, and I strolled over, liking the way the point of my umbrella clacked against the bluestone walkway.

This little shop was set back away from the street a little,

It had been a mechanic's shop when I was a child, and it still had its garage doors, which were slid open today, where cars waiting to be worked on had been parked years ago

The pavement was replaced with soft ground cover and pavers.

Two small trees were growing up on either side of the yard, and their branches were full of birdhouses and wind chimes.

Inside the old shop, a very faint scent of car oil and tools lingered.