Second day after our epic bike ride, and now is when I really start to feel it: shoulders tight, skin sensitive, headache, the whole thing. Despite all this, the dog still needs walking, so I pick her up and carry her down to do her business, as she really can't do stairs anymore.
When she's done pooping, and we're about to go back up, we pass a woman walking down the street by herself, dragging a rolling suitcase behind her, no coat even though the night is cold and moist, her face a tragedian's mask, tears rolling down her face.
She passes us as Coco clambers up the stoop to the front door, and I watch this woman retreat into the Brooklyn night, thinking how good I have it, wondering how many places the same scene is being reenacted right now - a person crying, walking away from something, or toward something, another person watching, ignorant and sympathetic, but unable to change anything.
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One year ago: Family Values
Two years ago: Women's Liberation
Three years ago: Polite
Four years ago: A Creature Driven and Derided by Money
Nine years ago: 5-9-08 Small Victories
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