Concrete Fluff

The light turned red and I slowed to a stop, blinker ticking. Cars on Elmgrove whizz by. Nothing unusual about that. Headed for the Ridge I suppose. In between cars, I noticed something rolling down the road. At first I thought I was seeing things because the moving stuff was the exact color of the road pavement. No, something is definitely moving there. Dragged along by the traffic. What is that stuff?

Pollen? I never heard of gray pollen. It looks a bit like wads of dandelion fluff, but there are massive amounts. There aren't enough dandelions here abouts to create that much fluff. It looks more like the stuff that lines padded envelopes. Sometimes we have one blow up in Interlibrary Loan and the fine gray stuffing gets into every nook and cranny. Yes, it looks like that. I wonder if a FedEx truck blew up.

The light changes. Two more cars zoom by before I am able to turn. Ah! Mystery solved. There in the middle of Elmgrove lies a smashed bag of concrete. It must have fallen off a truck. Part of the paper bag that used to enclose the powder waves forlornly over the drifting mass, as if trying to convince the stuff to stay put. Sure enough, as each car passes the mess, little scraps of the fine powder ball up and roll down the road toward the intersection. Too bad. If Dad were here, he would stop and salvage the leftovers. "Perfectly good," I can almost hear him say. "I can use that."

Perhaps that is what the good Lord says when our lives are in a mess and we find ourselves rolling down the street at the whim of every passing vehicle. He is a master at salvaging busted lives.

I smile and suddenly the sun breaks out of the cloud covering.