I dropped my bag with a change of clothes off at work and made my way outside. Hair strewn back in a messy ponytail, and wearing the same smelly gym clothes I’ve been wearing all week, I was thankful that no one had yet come in to the office. I stepped outside on to Market street. It was still relatively quiet. This quiet would only last another hour.
I instinctively turned left, towards Church and Market. The jog to that intersection is about 15 minutes, so it would be 30 minutes round trip. I put in my headphones, took a deep breath and made my way down Market street, against commuter foot traffic. People in suits and tennis shoes, canvas bags and briefcases passed me by. The morning rush started to trickle out of houses and flow downtown.
I passed Octavia, the LGBT center, The Mint. Then, as I came up over the hill and passed Safeway, I saw my dad jogging alongside my mom. He stopped for a second, still jogging in place, and gave her a kiss. I yelled across the street, “Mom! Dad!” But they didn’t hear me. My dad turned to start on his jog to work, and my mom made her way to the F Market stop. Strangely, panic passed over me, as if this moment in time wasn’t real; I was just a ghost seeing into the past. Then, my dad turned my way. “Dad!” I yelled again. He saw me and waved and then ran back to my mom. They both waved at me.
My mom caught the F Market, and my dad made his way across the wide street to meet me. “What are you doing here?” He asked.
“I just went for a morning jog before work. Decided to run this way. I thought I might run into you.”
“Wanna jog to work together?” He asked.
“Of course!”
My dad and I jogged together to Van Ness and Market and arrived right about when my mom’s F Market passed us by. I said goodbye and let my dad catch up to the train so he could see my mom off one more time before they started their work day.
