In the Crosswalk

It feels like it was a hundred years ago, but, really it was in 1990. 24 years-or-so ago.

Dwight was driving the mustard-colored Range Rover toward downtown Salt Lake City to pick me up after work.

He was a little late.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “There was a little old lady on South Temple crossing the street.

I waited at the intersection while a little old lady crossed. I beeped my horn and waved. Someday, you’ll be a little old lady and, when you are crossing the street, someone will beep the car horn. It will be me.”

“Promise?” I asked.

Dwight promised me that, when I was old, using a walker, he would honk.