Mr. Whitecap-man

I used to pass him each morning on my ride to school. Whenever I was running just a few minutes late we'd pass on the long river-side path. If I was running later he would have already stopped to talk to the woman who walked her dog down that path each morning. On those rare occasion when I was early we'd miss each other. He always wore the same white track-suit and white baseball cap - plain, without insignia.
He would always call out to me, 'Ohayo Gozaimasu!' and I'd return his morning greeting. We had a deal.



I remember lying awake one night before I left to return home. I remember wondering, 'What about Mr. Whitecap-man? Should I tell him I'm leaving? Will he notice I'm gone? I've said hello to him each morning for the last two years, but never stopped to talk - maybe I should say goodbye, that I'm going home.'

I hadn't made up my mind about this particular matter of social etiquette when my last week at school rolled around. I thought maybe if I was feeling friendly that morning I'd just call out 'Sayonara' if I saw him, 'Kaerimasu! - I'm going home'. The weekend before that final week I was hit by a car. I rode the bus that week. I never saw Mr. Whitecap-man again.

It seems to take much longer to notice the things that are missing. For some reason that thought came back to me last night, when I couldn't sleep. I wonder if he ever thinks about Mr. Yellowbike-san when he can't sleep.