Adapting
It was a frosty and foggy January morning, just past dawn. I was walking to the river, thinking about a story set in a logging camp I wanted to write.
I made my way into a park and wandered through groves of stately conifers. I had the whole park to myself...and then I didn't.
Some 50 yards ahead of me, I saw a man dismount from his bicycle that was towing a baby carrier stuffed full of cans and bottles. He began hunting through a garbage can. It's a familiar enough sight everywhere around Oregon at pretty much any time of the day or night. How so many homeless people obtain baby strollers and bicycle carriers to haul their dogs, possessions and cans is utterly unimaginable to me. And the various ways they rig up these baby conveyances to carry more weight than they were originally designed for is something to behold.
The man saw me coming and stopped hunting. He looked my direction. I stopped a few feet away from him and said good morning. He said the same.
I examined his carrier and how it was attached to his bicycle. It was a unique set-up and I said I admired it. He told me he wished it was his.
The man went on to explain he had borrowed the carrier from a friend. His carrier had been stolen. He only had use of it in the early morning so here he was making his rounds. I said it was nice of his friend to lend him the carrier. He agreed.
“We have to adapt,” he said, “and move forward.”
I agreed and wished him good luck on his hunting. He wished me a good day.