We have lots of little lizards in Tallahassee. I think they are geckos but I am not sure. I like the word gecko though.
Yesterday, as I was leaving the village to go to work, I saw there was a gecko on the hood of my car, at the end as if he were the figure-head for a ship, or one of those hood ornaments that one doesn’t really see anymore. He stretched his head up, looking out at the world, the wind ruffling his little amphibian skin. He seemed to be enjoying the adventure.
But I was worried for the small gecko. What if he got to the parking lot at work and disembarked, and couldn’t find his way back to his family? Or more worrisome, what if on the way to work, the running engine heated the car hood sufficiently to fry the gecko? Or what if the gecko realized he was overheating and in a panic, jumped from the hood into oncoming traffic?
Instead of exiting the village, I turned right, went around the block and stopped the car in front of our house. When I tried scoop the gecko off the hood, he freaked out and jumped of his own accord, into familiar territory. When I came home that night, I thought of the gecko. But of course he was long gone.