She walked into view

She walked into view,

through the window where I had been watching

the coming and goings of the revolving door. 

She races across the sidewalk into the parking lot

tight jeans, flip flops, a baby bump under her tshirt.

Keys in hand, and only a wallet to carry. 

Too busy to mess with a purse.

This stop was only one in her busy day.

She walks so fast she doesn't consider the

others around her who walk much slower.

An older woman, stout with age,

struggling with an equally stout bag.

An older couple hand in hand,

one woman accompanying another with an oxygen tank,

a father holding his daughter's hand, her arm in a cast.

No, she doesn't consider them,

or what happened to them along the way to slow them down.

I watch her.  I think to myself, I used to be her.

Consumed with my mental list, too busy to even write it on paper.

So focused on my task I'm unable to see the people passing by me

as anything other than obstacles in the road.

I watch her rush to her car, and leave the parking lot.

I find myself wishing her the realization that soon

before she even notices it

time will have slipped through her hands

the baby in her belly will be grown

and she will wonder how it happened so fast.

How she came to the moment when she sees a young woman

who reminds her of who she used to be.