High

The park near our home here in Arizona is amazing. It's green (rare) due to strategic planning relating it closely to the canal system, and is oft-filled with runners, walkers, disc golfers, musicians, skateboarders, doggies, and a rather impressive assortment of birds. This morning, early-early, before reaching the expected 108, my sister and I strolled with our dog. The air was clean. The morning light bright, but not yet hot. A lovely lady, who we see nearly every time we are in the park (less than five feet tall, Native American, probably over 80 years old, always in the same brimmed hat and grey sweatshirt) jogged by. She jogs looking at the ground, mostly, it seems because her back is now bent that way; you can only see her face from a distance. As she passed us, silently, like always, she neared another elderly lady coming towards us. This woman was a bit younger, perhaps in her 70s, and had the classic pouf of curly greying hair, and a wee dog with a similar hairdo. I looked away briefly as they neared each other in front of us. (Was that a heron dancing near the water?) When I looked back, the ladies, I swear, were giving each other a jubilant high five. The jogger then jogged on. The dogwalker grinned and continued walking toward us.