Option

Today a small mouthed man in a parka stood on the sidewalk with a handmade sign that read "Adoption is an Option." I drove right by him but craned my neck stretching to see his face and his sign. He really did highlight, made the word option darker. Better judgement prevented me from my impulse to slam on my breaks and stop my car, but i did turn around. I did so in a hurry, like i had to double back to get something that fell out of my trunk and I was afraid it would be ruined by traffic. I was not really sure what I would say to him. I wanted to know why he felt like he needed to stand there all alone with that sign-White paper and black magic marker. The traffic patterns are a little weird at this place where he stood so to double back to him took a little effort. My nervousness made me a bit clumpsy driving, I nearly went the wrong way against a traffic pattern. I thought to myself, this son of a bitch never pushed a baby out and gave it to a stranger. He never felt a baby inside kicking, hiccuping. What did this small tight mouth man think, he was so righteous and full of purpose. I just wanted to interview him, pretend I was a reporter or a writer. Had you given a baby away before sir? Had you pulled an empty clip board from a nail and then filled it with your ideas of what you would like to happen in your baby's life? Had you been placed for adoption? Was your mother alone with skin tight on her belly swollen wondering how she would find the strength to know how to choose for her unborn child? Had you been left by your mother? Had you been the father of a child given away? What thoughts brought your boots and your sign to this sidewalk?

He was gone when I turned back. I will look for him and I will approach him slowly, like one does a dog with a collar but no leash-not sure if the wag and the low cast stare will come with a bite.