Pony: I touched a monkey named Todd
9.2.2005
It has been a week of little outdoor time. I have eaten lunch at my desk and worked late. But this morning was incredibly beautiful as I rode my bike through the park. Sun on skin never felt so good. No delivery trucks in the bike lane. One of those good-portent mornings, you know?
I locked my bike and got a bottle of peach juice and crossed the street, and what did I see? A baby monkey on the arm of a man. The monkey's name was Todd. He grabbed my finger and chirped.
I have not forgotten about the hurricane victims. Or the fact that my neighboour, Frank, who gave us a big bottle of Merlot, died this week, and I feel sad now, every time I wheel my bike out and expect to see his beige socks and grey shoes peeking out from his perch on the porch beneath the glass-encased diorama of a saint.
I just wanted to point out that it is also a fine morning for riding your bike. And I held hands with a monkey named todd.
