The Second Point of Progress

My brain has organized my bike commute into three sections, so that I find myself feeling suddenly closer to home at very specific intersections along the way. At the second mark last night, a little girl with big green marbles on her ponytail holder was crossing the street. Her mom was holding her hand and dragging her along looking exhausted. The girl spotted me as soon as they hit the crosswalk and stared at me the whole time she crossed the street. Her gaze was so fixed that it held her further back behind her mothers steps. As she passed me, I smiled at her, and she smiled back triumphantly, because she knew we both got it.