The Unguarded Corner

There's a corner near my house that I drive around at least twice a day. It's an ordinary suburban four-way intersection with a light. On the northwest corner is the Liberty gas station. On the northeast is a 7-11. The southeast and southwest corners are home respectively to another gas station (I forget which brand) and a small shopping plaza: CVS, nail salon, beer and wine, a few restaurants, McDonalds, etc. I usually come from the north and turn west, or from the west and turn north. Sometimes I go south to north, and, much more rarely, east to west.

There's a bus stop where people wait, and since the metro isn't far there are a lot of people coming through at rush hour. There is always someone trying to get across one of the streets to or from the 7-11 or the shopping plaza. Sometimes, late at light in the summer, there are gangs of teenagers hanging out in the 7-11 parking lot. Because I live in a multicultural area, you can see every race at this corner: Black, White, Hispanic, Asian, Indian, Middle Eastern... they all come through.

It is a wonderful corner for seeing people. I don't mean watching people; you can do that anywhere. I mean seeing people. I mean catching the unguarded moment, the second or two (or ten) when all the walls are down and what shows on a person's face, in his eyes, is exactly what he's feeling.

I've seen young men---boys, really---flying down the north hill on their bikes with "YES!" in the proud uptilted corners of their eyes. I've seen women laughing, bitter, dreamy, bleak, vain, and serene. I've seen old men who seem to bear the weight of years on their trembling shoulders. I've seen middle-aged men trying to regain something---who knows what---from the sleek leather seats of their red sports cars.

Many look like they wish they could get life over with, so exhausted are they with empty struggles. Others are businesslike, trudging forward because that is what they do. Some are determined. Some are exultant. Others seem simply stubborn. A few are really happy, throw-your-head-back-and-laugh happy.

Almost every day I see something on my unguarded corner, and I wonder about the million million lives I will never brush against. What fears, what hopes, what sorrows and joys, does life hold for the child born on the same day, at the same hour, perhaps even in the same minute, as myself? Who is that child? Will I ever meet him? Will I ever know her? What will his or her end be?

I love my unguarded corner. I shall miss it when school rolls round again.