My world stretches out
When I leave my house, my world stretches out around me. People are in
my world. I like to know what they are doing, so I walk around my block.
I smell cookies baking.
I hear boys and girls yelling.
I watch my neighbors cutting lawns, painting fences, and washing cars. I
watch the garbage truck stop at every house.
Sometimes I scratch a puppy behind the ears. Or I watch a cat climb a
tree.
I speak to the people I know—to the mail carrier, to Mrs. Jones next
door, and to children on their way to school.
I know the crossing guard, too. I watch her stop the cars so children
can cross the street safely.
When I reach the end of my block, another block stretches ahead. On my
left and on my right are still other blocks.
Those blocks are filled with houses. The houses are homes for people. I
wonder how many people and how many blocks are in my city. How much
space on the earth does my block fill?
My eyes tell me that all of those other blocks must be much like my
block. But I know that mine is a very special block. I live here.
