Three days a week, I work from my external office. I’ve had an office downtown for almost three years, but recently I moved to a space over in the Ivywild neighborhood that butts up against North Cheyenne Canyon. I miss downtown, but this location has its charms (a cute little bookstore! a funky coffee shop with massive breakfast burritos! a library where no one is peeing in the corners!).

One of the many reasons I’m happy about the move is that I can take the back roads on my commute. The hilly, historic neighborhoods between my house and my office are breathtakingly beautiful, and it’s a pleasure to drive to work in the morning.

But it’s the old man on Broadmoor Valley Rd that brings the biggest smile to my face.

Most mornings, this friendly old man stands out on a corner and waves at people driving by. When you wave back to him, you’re rewarded with the biggest, most delightful smile followed by even more excited waving.

You can tell that waving to people is the highlight of his morning.

Which makes it the highlight of my morning.

There’s something about that exchange of waves and smiles that can lift my spirit no matter how hectic the morning began. I’ve found myself worrying about him on the rare morning he’s not out there when I drive to work.

When I’m old, I want to be like him. I want to be the friendly old lady waving and smiling at passersby.

Some days, that desire feels impossible to fulfill. I feel angry about the state of the world. Angry at the politics, the pandemic, the violence and the selfishness. Some days, it takes all my willpower not to drop out — not to just uproot my family and move to the middle of nowhere.

It’s people like that friendly, happy old man who give me hope again.