I’ve seen him through the front window, walking.   Tall, fairly young – thirty, thirty-five maybe. Neatly, casually dressed.   Very straight back.   He looks fit and agile, until you realize his head does not swivel on his neck.  When he looks left or right, he moves slowly from the waist, his shoulders bring his head along for the turn.  Chin locked.   Mostly he looks forward.    His footsteps are heavy – slight lift, careful placement.  Each move deliberate, fully completed before the next move is made.  He does not stroll. Does not swing his arms.   

The one time we spoke, I was chasing a cat out of a tree away from a bird’s nest as he was passing by.  He half turned, half grinned. Said, “Your yard is looking nice.”    

I am glad he’s out there making his life work.

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