To the bank, then to the pharmacy for sunscreen. That was the plan. But the actual reason was that I wanted a walk. It was about 19 minutes to 10pm and when I stepped outside, I did not regret not checking the weather; I regretted not entertaining my old habit of wearing sweaters in heat or cold. The moon was not half full but it shimmered all the same. There were some stars. I really ought to learn about these stars. I want to.

At the bank I deposited some money and half way back home I came to a sudden halt because I remembered that I had forgotten the sunscreen. With the reminder came a mild regret and a moment of indecision. Then I felt relieved: I had forgotten to research what sunscreen works best for my skin!  It would have been a mistake had I remembered to make my trip to the drugstore.

Painting by Soly Cissé

Below the jacket, he wore a pair of tan khaki pants. I cannot recall his shoes. His face radiated a
feeling between awe, appreciation, and love. I liked the way he just stood there, alone, in the middle of the sidewalk; his head gently raised to the moon in attentiveness. A beautiful man––maybe in his late 60s or early 70s. I am not good at guessing age.

How long has he been doing that in his life? How long will he continue to do that? How did he learn to do that? When did he allow himself to just stop in the middle of a walk and raise his eyes to the skies while the breeze tugged at his brown jacket and people walked him by with curious eyes? Was it before he had that brown jacket? I walked on a few yards and when I looked back he was walking slowing on in the opposite direction. His hands seemingly limp at his sides.

—
Jane A. Odartey