I've seen him for four years, five days a week, tall and skinny. "Swish, swish", he strokes the ground as his skateboard glides past.He's heading east to school as I drive west to work. The young man seems to barely notice as we pass. Maybe I'm too familiar. I usually get a slight smile and a little wave.
I used to know him better. We lived in the same house for six years.
Ian's morning treks end tomorrow when he graduates from high school.
Next week I'll have the street to myself. Sometimes I'll remember how we used to pass each other, my handsome son with the sun in his face and buds in his ears.
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