My Street
My street is what some would consider small. Cunningham Street is many things however lengthy is not one of them. Stationed towards the
bottom lies a dead end street, which gives homes to many despite its petite
stature. My street can be lively and my street can be silent. As a hill,
walking down my street is a breeze however the uphill commute may leave one’s
legs a little unsteady upon reaching the top. Just before one reaches the top,
my house will come into view surrounded by a fence with a no parking sign in
front of the driveway.
A car alarm awakes the street, a sure sign of a restless
morning. Today is Wednesday, Trash day. Looking out the window, I can see the
car omitting that piercing sound while the owner fumbles for the keys. I watch
the man drive away; trying to enjoy the few times my street’s in silence. I
watch the leaves blow sporadically. Birds are softly chirping in the tress
while pigeons walk aimlessly on the sidewalks looking for food. My attention is
now fixed on the roaring sound of garbage man coming to collect the trash put
out the night before.
I make my way outside as the truck disappears around the
corner. Outside is a beautiful day. The leaves I saw blowing earlier managed to
collect themselves into a nice heap at the bottom of my stairs. I see some of
my neighbors upon my retrieval of the trash bins, wave whist giving a friendly
‘good morning’ are the only recognitions given. A man, his name is Mr. Adams,
is raking leaves and picking up trash in front of his house. He is an old man
yet age does not deter him from assuring his section of the street is clean. A
group of kids, maybe middle school, make their way up the hill. They are having
a conversation that does not travel to my ears but the similes on their faces
and their laugher help me presume that their journey will be enjoyable. A
school bus picks up a girl waiting with her mother at the corner of my street
and the dead end one. A brother and sister, running past me hand in hand with
oversized book bags and metal lunchboxes, try to catch the yellow automobile
before they miss their only ride to school. Bins placed where they belong leave
my morning observations for a later time.
The mailman brings in the afternoon. My street is pretty
empty. Cars that usually populate the morning are now randomly scatted along
the street. Music blaring focuses my attention on an all black car parked in
the driveway across the street. This is an everyday occurrence. Whether this
car or another, people on my street feel the need to showcase their music
preferences for all to hear. The women next door to me is shaking out her rug
over her porch while whacking it with a straw broom. Yelling brings my gaze to
a group of kids, ranging from eight to about thirteen, getting reading to play
a game of some sort in the street. One is holding a football while another a
small bat. Two of the children had skateboards as the rest ran around. To each his
own.
Red and blue lights appear by my living room window. The
time is evening. My street has since lain dormant, engulfed in a stillness well
deserved. The view from my porch allows me to better assess the trouble of my
street. I am not the only one who has sparked an interest in the street’s
nightly routine. Whether perched on one’s porch or shielded slightly by a
window curtain all eyes are locked on the scene displayed. Cunningham Street is
the name, with a crime watch sign at the corner. Muffled voices over car radio
frequencies leave onlookers puzzled. Nightly patrols are common. Neighborhood
safety is a goal of our small community with the hopes to gain reassurance that
criminal activity has waned due to this established support group.
It is unclear what transpired that night. It was neither
the first nor the last for Cunningham Street. On brighter days we are all eyes
seeking something greater, something worth chasing, in order to provide the
youth with a community full of role models, instilling education, compassion,
concern for others, as well as correct conduct.
picture: http://www.canyontx.com/index.aspx?NID=202
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