Sentinel

I never seem to catch this intersection right.  I push the button and settle in next to the telephone pole for the wait.

There is a lost cat notice up on the telephone pole.  Does anyone ever really find a lost cat? When I was a kid our cat disappeared when we were on vacation.  My parents said they just do that sometimes, that cats are independent and just move on when they feel like it.  Now that I’m an adult I know that my parents didn’t know what the heck happened to Muffin but I still like and believe this lore about him and about cats in general.

There is also a tattered garage sale sign from last weekend on the pole.  It is hardly legible due to soaking in yesterday’s rain. I’m sure someone will take it down come Friday and put up their own.  I, myself, have put up many garage sale signs on this very pole. I wonder if we were careful to take them down. Probably not. Garage sales are exhausting and once all of the leftover junk is hauled to charity, and the few dollars made are spent on dinner, who thinks of that?

This pole is riddled with nails and staples.  Every available space on every reachable part of it has been used to post one sign or another for so many years.  This ugly and abused sentinel of our neighborhood has stood witness to myriad parties, car washes, lemonade stands, bake sales, estate sales, lost animals, lost people, lost and found notices of all kinds.  It has even borne lost mittens, pacifiers, and hats. It has protested presidents and welcomed home soldiers. Chunks of wood are chiseled away revealing hard-weathered scars and pockmarks. The pole itself stands tall and straight but I’m sure in time it will be replaced. It will be carted off somewhere and burned or chipped.  I wonder how all those metal fasteners will do in a chipper?  

Finally, the light turns.  I make one last note of the missing cat, promising myself to look for him but also secretly hoping he is out there catting around.