Moment(um) 4

It is late summer and I am driving back to Atlanta for work after visiting friends in Ohio. I am stuck in traffic in Cincinnati in an old Buick LeSabre. The AC is busted and I have the windows rolled down. The late afternoon sun bounces through the cement of the city in a diffuse cathode glow. There is a high school just off the highway, and a football team has taken the field for late afternoon practice. Their white helmets are lightbulb bright against the dark blue and red practice jerseys, the dull brown of the tired field. When traffic finally stops completely, I watch them run plays up and down the field.

Two long legged high school girls: one tall with a red ponytail bobbing along behind her, the other slight and brunette, are running together around the red-orange track on the perimeter of the football field. They have the track to themselves, running lazy circles around the boys of the team. While I sit in traffic on the highway, I wonder what this moment is like for the two of them. Perhaps one has a boyfriend on the team? Maybe they are checking the boys out, or looking to be checked out themselves? Maybe the reverse is possible, and they are resentful of being objectified and gawked at? Maybe they are totally oblivious, just out for a run in the afternoon breeze, unconcerned with football players or bored old men stuck up on the freeway?

Traffic starts and I leave them all behind. They have youth and the afternoon. I envy them that.