And All That

Washington Square Park, sunny Tuesday afternoon in July, office workers dawdle over gossipy lunches, nannies fuss over ecstatic children, a quartet plays jazz in the shade. You think the world would be a beautiful place if not filtered through your dour lenses. How your highs have been so high but your lows so terribly dreary you’re not sure they’re worth it. A few blocks away in a messy pre-war walkup, a half packed suitcase stands waiting, patiently, you know it’s a drug like any other but pray for a moment’s respite, even if it’ll peel away with the suntan. A small candle sits in a liner pocket, it does not care where you run, it is loyal and patient. You carry it tenderly with you as you go. It is the weight of the world and yet no trouble at all, such is love. A small child nestled itself into my embrace one night and I thought here it is after all, an answer:

you are so much stronger than you ever thought, and life will give you the chance to prove it.