I took the school-heavy route to work yesterday, not really intending to spend so much time staring at the sidewalks, waiting out the lines. A sunny spring morning is a good time to see families trooping to elementary school, particularly in the suburban neighborhoods near the office.
Most of the parents trailing along with their children were on foot or bicycle, except for one dad. He was traveling away from campus on a small neon green skateboard, hips shifting, body relaxed. He was in jeans and demin shirt, casual enough for working from home—but he was skimming over the concrete as if he could daydream his way home without looking down. Maybe he was a little heavy or had a tonsure more monk than dude. Perhaps there isn’t much difference in the absorption of the moment.
Skateboard Dad made me think of my brother and my nephew, both of whom enjoy longboards and long concrete paths. Although I don’t have the balance the required, watching the grace-in-balance of someone on a skateboard lifts me up. My entire Thursday ran on the parallel tracks of pushing pixels into place and slipping under tree shadows, relaxed into the board.