Day of the Outer Range, 27th of Midsommar, 526 M,E. (Electra): I'm just a little boy.

Today, at the supermarket, it was my cashier's birthday. She was an older woman, younger than me, of course, but 92% of the Earth's population is now younger than me. but looked like she was certainly a mother to someone and possibly even a grandmother. But she's always smiling every time I see her, she calls everyone "Dear," and always makes eye contact. Seeing here with a ribbon on her vest and balloons at her register to celebrate her birthday, reminded me that not so long ago, in the grand scheme of things, she was a little girl thrilled at the attention her parents gave her on her special day. I wished her a happy birthday, and when she said, "here you go," as she put the receipt in my grocery bag, I said, "Thank you, Birthday Girl."

Yesterday, while I was out on my walk, a young girl, maybe around 10 years old, passed me on her bicycle. As she approached, she called out "on your left" and rang her bell twice, which I thought odd as I was already on the extreme far right of the trail and there was no one else around to impede her path. I saw her again coming the other after I had turned around at the end of the trail, and she did the same thing to another walker - "on your left" and ring, ring, and then again just a few yards further. I realized she was doing it to everyone she passed, doing what someone had once told her to do. She was being obedient to common sense safety rules, she was a good girl, a perfect daughter to someone, somewhere, and my heart nearly burst out of affection. 

There's a  spot several miles further down the trail where some kids had set up a hammock, a rope swing,  and a zip line over Peachtree Creek. I'd seen them playing there in weeks past, a collection of bikes, scooters, and helmets lying on the ground around them, but with the creek now flowing with turbid brown water and the fish kill where the creek empties into the Chattahoochee River, no one was there yesterday. More good girls and boys obeying their parents and adhering to common sense safety rules. 

All these different people, humans in various stages of life, feel to me like one continuous presence as seen through different windows of existence. I'm not different from them, the cashier is no different from the girl on the bike or the kids (not) playing along the creek. Sometimes, it really feels like we're all one.

I'm just a little boy.