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Tuesday, May 12, 2020.
After racking my brain all afternoon it became apparent that I might finally be leaving New York soon.
I needed to clear my head, so I went for a jog up through Williamsburg and into McCarren park via an open sidewalk on the northwest side.
It was a sidewalk that under normal circumstances probably didn’t get much use, and even now seemed to be hidden away from the influx of passersby who needed a break from their own confinement. It was wider than most you find in the city, and offered a nice respite– a chance to walk for a solid minute without encountering another soul. In that urban clearing you would hardly guess we were in the middle of any kind of crisis.
The row of trees lining the path were full of green; their long, wavering branches draped over the sidewalk. The sun shone over a chain link fence on the right hand side, onto the trees on the left hand side, and finally down onto the long, cracked space of concrete in front of me. The elements coalesced to form a type of serene promenade, and all at once it hit me.
Memories of Brooklyn came pouring in: quiet summer evenings on brownstone streets dotted with fireflies just beginning to light their iridescent glow; a bike ride down Prospect Park loop on an autumn night, the wind rushing over my face as I looked up and closed my eyes briefly to feel alive; levitating over a vast expanse of water to cross the bridge into Chinatown; sacred moments in time when unrelenting personal expectations…
