After work tonight I helped Zinnia make dinner (a new undertaking on her part), and then I headed to meet a friend in Royal Oak. This required exiting westbound at Woodward, which I dislike in general because the exit is awkward and busy. As I reached the top of the exit, I saw something unusual for the area–there was a young couple on the service drive and Main St. intersection. The girl, slender with long blond hair, held a sign that read “BROKE TRAVELING HUNGRY”. The boy played guitar vigorously and sang with his head held high, as if he were used to projecting a distance. I checked how much time I had at the light and started looking for my wallet.

I don’t usually carry much money, and lately I don’t spend much either. All summer we’ve been on a pretty tight budget to save for a new house. I nicknamed it the BAB, or Boyce Austerity Budget. In my wallet, I had three singles and a twenty. I fished out the singles and looked their way. The girl darted across Main St. to meet another car and the boy wasn’t looking my way. I was in the wrong lane and at the wrong part of the intersection to pull over when the light turned green. I started driving on toward my original route, and I got that sick “I didn’t do the thing I want to do” feeling. I changed course to drive around the block, and by the time I made the second turn toward them, the feeling was stronger still. Before the final turn onto Main St., I exchanged the singles for the twenty.

Pulling up to the service drive, I was in the same spot the girl had just run to, but I couldn’t see them. Had they left with someone? When I reached the light, I realized they were there in their original spot. I honked to get their attention, and the boy smiled and waved as he ran over. I rolled down my window.

Today I’m a woman wearing department store makeup and driving a new minivan, but 20 years ago I was a bit of a hippie and dreamed of driving across country. As a once-child, I can imagine the excitement of setting out for the adventure, and as a grownup I can imagine the troubles they might be facing. And as a parent–I watched his tired eyes, her too-slim figure, and felt a spike of fear for them.

When he reached the van and saw the bill in my hand, he drew his hands in a prayer position of thanks and said “Thank you so much”. All I managed to say was “Be safe.” And I drove away worrying about them, wondering if their parents knew where they are, and hoping they’ll be OK, especially the girl with the long blond hair.