I rarely go anywhere without chalk — it’s in my purse, in the Magic Bus’ glove compartment, outside my front door, and in a plastic container where my driveway meets the road. I started chalking when something very dear to me was stolen from my yard and I asked in chalk for its return. I didn’t get it back, but I kept chalking. Sometimes I’ll get a chalked reply on the driveway though I seldom see its author; I like our anonymity. I have also been caught while chalking road barriers and thanked for my efforts, but I’d rather be unknown.
Rear view mirror