Rachelle Rea Cobb

For months now they’ve been working. Churning up dirt and wreaking mayhem, mostly in the early morning when cars are rushing by on their commute, but often during school pick-up hours, too. A slew of men with hard hats and orange vests intermingling with pig-tailed girls and running boys eager to beat them to the crosswalk.

For weeks I’ve watched those men lay cones, put up barriers, and direct me through the chaos. It seems they’re getting very little done.