Holiday Pile-up

 “Happy Valentine’s Day! Happy New Year! Gung Hay Fat Choy!!! Happy Presidents’ Day!”

            He rattles off the holidays as I pass by, giving him wide berth by walking in the middle of the street. Even though I have my mask on, I still practice the give ‘em-too-much-social-distancing protocols. At this point in my walks, the avoidance of people is so automatic, yet even so, I sometimes feel strange about it.

            Like today with this cheerful neighbor wishing me all these holidays’ good cheer. Would I have ordinarily stopped to chat with him? Probably not. But it’s the idea that we can’t do this that starts to wear me down.

            He’s getting into his mid-2000’s Toyota sedan, a plastic container of to-go food balanced on the roof of the car. He’s masked, too. Thank goodness. Even though most people are, I still see the occasional rogue non-masker on my walks. Like today the man with his gold shoes, ubiquitous phone in his hand playing some stupid video, and a sad little dog that wanted to stop and have me pet it. This man had NO mask on. He did glance at me, but barely. He made no motion to give me any social distancing. He just sauntered along, phone blaring, ignoring me.

            Unlike Holiday Pile-up man! He was all about wishing me well. Do I know him? Have I seen him before?

            Maybe. Though he doesn’t look familiar with his salt and pepper curly hair popping up all over his head and brown eyes smiling at me over his black mask. He’s a short and stocky guy, dressed in non-descript beigey clothing, getting ready for his Saturday. But not before wishing me well. Which I appreciate.

            I wave and laugh as he lists the holiday off. Even the Chinese New Year in Chinese! Was he Chinese? Maybe, I can’t tell under his mask, but with the curly hair, I think probably not. But it’s the Bay Area. We’re multicultural here. Embracing everyone’s holidays and not just the usual Anglo European ones of the Patriarchy.

            I wish him happy holidays too as I march past him.

            He’s watching me, but not in a creepy way, just a friendly neighborly way. “You take care, Young Lady!” he calls after me.

            Young Lady! I love this guy! No one has called me that for decades! There are some advantages to being masked and hatted and sunglassed up. No one can tell that I’m an old lady and not a young lady. Though this could just be something he calls every ‘Lady’—I mean, what’s he gonna say, “You take care, Lady?” Or “You take care, Old Lady?”

            Nope, “You take care, Young Lady” has a nice ring to it.

            Hell, I’ll take it.

            As I stride up the street, a grey plush cat stares at me serenely from her perch on a porch. I wish her Happy Valentine’s Day.

            She closes her eyes, raising her cat face to the morning sun.  I wave goodbye and then continue up the street, marveling at the puffy clouds, pink blossoms, and holiday pile up on this fine faux spring day.