maybe i'll grow up to be wise, as good as he

I smile every morning on my way to work, as I'm driving down the side streets in order to avoid the morning rush on York Road. I smile because every morning at 8:30, just as I pass the school and make the turn onto Kader, there's always an old man out taking his morning walk. I smile because he wears a beret with sweat pants, and his down vest is the brightest shade of aqua I've ever seen. Mostly though, I smile because every morning as I drive past him at 8:30, he waves to me. I've never met him; he doesn't know who I am. Yet, every morning there he is, waving at me. And I wave back.