Her lollipop lady was gone! It was a fun community story about little moments of kindness.
I love that story because it reminded my about my lollipop man, who I wave to every day.
I drive past Mooroopna Primary School every day and the lollipop man is on O’Brien St.
Our friendship was somewhat of a slow burn.
When I started at The News, I would wave to him, and he would only sometimes wave back.
Then it became a mutual wave.
Finally, it happened. He waved to me before I got the chance to wave at him.
I had made it. We were besties.
He’s become such a part of my daily routine that something feels off if I go to work late, or it’s the school holidays and I don’t get to wave to him.
If I’m stressed on the way to work, or I slept all wrong, or I’m just in a Monday funk, I can always rely on him to wave at me and put a smile on my face.
I don’t know his name, or where he’s from or how long he’s been there, but I know I’ll get a wave.
He doesn’t know my name, or where I go each day after waving to him, but he knows my little Ford Puma will drive past him every day.
Not to get too philosophical about two people waving at each other, but isn’t it just so nice?
Two people of very different ages, in different parts of life, with different stories and nothing to do with each other have a brief moment every day that they both can count on for a little bit of kindness.
I have tried to wave at other lollipop men and women, but none of them wave back as kindly and as consistently as he does.
None of them have been able to be part of my daily routine. But he is.
So if you’re reading this, O’Brien St lollipop man, thank you for always waving back. You make my day.
I hope you know how much I appreciate you.
I’ll see you tomorrow.
Signed, the little Ford Puma.
35°C