lost and found

It's cold and windy, as I wait patiently for the next bus, after having just missed the previous one. The twenty-minute wait time is likely due to transportation budget cuts and fewer ridership for this particular route.  I glimpse at the hint of blue sky beyond the hill's horizon.  My carriage finally arrives full of high schoolers.  I'm grateful the ride should take around thirty minutes.  

Unfortunately, after walking for a while, I realize that I'm lost in the park.  I continue to walk aimlessly among fellow late afternoon pedestrians, most of whom stroll leisurely in contrast to my frantic pace.  I contemplate returning home.  But, somehow my weary limbs propel me forward, along paths that converge into a pedestrian only main street, one of the positive remnants after covid.  Nearing the familiar site of the Conservatory of Flowers, I find better direction from a kind young woman's phone.

In the midst of what now feels like endless pavement, I encounter several bronze sculptures that cause me to pause with wonder.  Approaching the familiar surroundings that lead to the park's bandshell and museum concourse, I overhear a jazz melody.  The park benches tempt me to sit, but I can't afford lost time, because I'm already late for my nephew's baseball game. 

After receiving final validation from another stranger that I'm upon my destination, I'm relieved that the game is still on, when I meet my brother and sister-in-law.  Unfortunately, I missed my nephew pitching, and he graciously accepts my apologies with gratitude.  I don't have kids, but I'm grateful for my nephew, who's navigating through his adolescence as I'm circumventing through my midlife.  Once again he gave me a reason to venture outside of my safe isolation in order to return to the botanical sanctuary, that is worth all of the unexpected detours.