The author and her son, strolling happily -- just not onto the bus. (Photo by Alyse Nelson.)

Cross-posted from Sightline Daily.

I recall vividly how embarrassed I felt the first time I climbed on the bus with my baby boy. We’d waited expectantly -- he bundled up in his stroller and me imagining the bus driver welcoming us aboard, lowering the wheelchair lift so we could roll on in style. In the stores and sidewalks of my neighborhood, people made way for us, slowing so we could pass on a congested sidewalk or holding doors open while we rolled into a shop.

But when the bus arrived, instead of lowering the lift, the driver told me to fold Orion’s stroller. My cheeks burned red as I hastily unpacked -- diaper bag, toys, blanket, and groceries -- while holding onto my squirming bundle of joy. Then, with one hand, I attempted to fold the stroller and carry the load aboard, knowing that everyone was watching me, passengers cursing under their breaths and the driver reviewing his timetable.

Sunnyside Piazza.Photo: Daniel Etra Cross-posted from Sightline Daily. What if all it took to build better neighborhoods was a little paint? Walking in southeast Portland, I once stumbled on a horizontal rendition of a sunflower, painted curb to curb on the intersection of Southeast 33rd and Yamhill. Sunnyside Piazza, it is called, which may seem a bit much for a splash of color on asphalt, but in person, it seemed fitting. This whimsical design, interrupting the functional but monotonous gray of Portland's street grid, felt like a somewhere. It seemed like a place deserving a name. It even felt like a "piazza." …