January 24: Officer

My neighborhood is safe, from what I can tell. I haven't had any need to be overly concerned about anything or anyone. I live on a quiet section of a busy road, about a block south of a major highway. From my sunporch, I can see the traffic traveling across the bridge over the river that runs in front of my building. When it's quiet, I can hear the roar of the cars passing by in the distance.

This morning I awoke to the sound of helicopters overhead. They were high up, I could tell, and it's not unusual to hear them. I live just a few blocks from a major trauma center, and with the highway close by, the morning traffic copters fly overhead frequently. This morning was different though. They seemed to hover overhead for a long time. I got out of bed, made the coffee, fed the cat and sat down to journal. My attention focused on the paper, I lost track of the noise outside.

Later I went out to run. I crossed the street and walked across the grass to the path in the park. After I stretched a bit, I headed south down the path, turning around to head back after 15 minutes.

When I got within sight of my apartment, I noticed the trash truck had arrived. I silently congratulated myself for remembering to take down the trash on my way out this morning. Then my eye caught the sight of a police car traveling south. The blinker went on just before it approached my driveway. I watched as it turned in, and parked in front of the garage in my building.

I wondered why the police were there. My imagination went wild. I remembered the helicopter. I had thoughts of a criminal running loose, holed up in the basement of my building. It's nice there. I spent the night on the floor of the laundry room once. I know.

I finished my run and stopped next to a concrete barrier to stretch a little. My eyes were fixed on the car, looking for any clue to tell me why the police were there. I glanced at the front door to see if there was a cop waiting on the porch, gun drawn, leaning back, ready to kick in the front door. Nothing. I crossed the street and started up the driveway. I could see someone in the car. Perhaps the officer was checking a computer to get information before approaching the door. Just then, I noticed a blonde head turn from the passenger's side and lean across the middle of the seat. A pony tail sprung from the back of the head. I recognized the face. It was my neighbor. As she reached across, the head of a policeman leaned in to meet her lips.