The Jogger

There’s this guy. This guy who lives in our neighborhood. Runs a lot.

It’s the weirdest thing – I always see him in the same exact place every time. He’ll be crossing Abbott Kinney and Main every time. I’ve never seen him anywhere else.

Sometimes I’m driving on my way to the Post Office, or to Mom’s or church or the store. Or sometimes Jim and I will be out walking – a mid-morning walk or an evening stroll or an afternoon gander – and we’ll see him – on Abbott Kinney – pressing the crosswalk button and keeping running in place – waiting for the pedestrian light to turn green so he can cross Main Street.

And he’s always wearing that same old grey-hooded sweatshirt – no matter what the temperature is outside. I’ve seen him brave a Texas summer in that thing. And he’s always smiling.

Then this morning – in the chill of a pre-spring morning – I see him again. I’m on my way to the Post Office when I catch sight of him. But he’s not wearing the gray hoodie – despite the 7 am chill. And he’s not on Abbott Kinney Blvd either. He’s on Sanchez and Hurst, and he- he isn’t smiling.

I wanted to pull over and stop him – ask him if he’s OK. It seemed crazy though – to stop a stranger for wearing different clothes, for being somewhere else, for not smiling. I was on the other side of Sanchez anyway, and I was turning right on Hurst. So I kept going. It bothered me though. Was he OK? Why was he different today? Why wasn’t he smiling?

I don’t know why I did it because every day is the same in my books. I wear the same outfit to go running and I take the same route and I love it. I’ve always been a creature of habit because when things are predictable I feel safe.

That’s why I love running – the sound of my shoes pounding rhythmically on the asphalt is soothing to me – like a bubbling fish tank in the darkness of the house at night, or the hum of a refrigerator – constant.

When I was a kid – maybe 5 or 6 – my mom used to tell me and my brother that if we cleaned our room then maybe dad would come home early. I don’t know why she said that – any more than I understand why we believed it. But maybe that’s why I put my faith in order. And I clung to that like it was gospel truth. I think I clung to that until three weeks ago. And that was the day I took Sanchez instead of Abbott Kinney. That was the day I didn’t wear the gray hoodie and the day I felt like someone had wiped the smile off my face. That was the day Jeanie didn’t come home at all anymore. Though I’d just organized the garage.

The garage was a mess. I mean, there were boxes everywhere still from the move – and stuff we’d been meaning to get rid of since before the move. I don’t know why we even took it with us, but Jeanie’s dad had insisted and there was no changing his mind. The place was a stupid mess of things we never use – hiding all the things we regularly need in a maze of anything and everything anyone could possibly own in a garage. I hated it.

But whatever. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s organized now. All the unneeded crap has been cleaned out. And Jeanie’s cleared out too. And I don’t think I’ll run on Abbott Kinney anymore either. Or go to the Starbucks on Virginia Parkway and Stonebridge. I already tossed that old gray hoodie. That went with the first box that left the garage that morning three weeks ago.

I’ll probably smile again.

I’ll just show it elsewhere.