The Withering Tree
Three
A sudden loud series of intermittent beeping dropped me hard on my feet onto the New York City pavement. The green man started flashing at me, as though displaying its annoyance at my inattentiveness. I tread across the tarmac carefully, afraid of tripping over my own skeletal feet. How unattractive and embarrassing! (Moreover, my joints hurt.)
My foot connected with the pavement the moment the lights signaled for the next motor race to begin. A woman in a navy blue pants suit brushed past me roughly, as though I wasn't there, and her briefcase rammed into my calf. I tried to ignore the throbbing pain and watched as the woman wheedled her way through. Her eyes stared blankly ahead.
Inside, my mind was restlessly churning with memories and thoughts, yet outwardly I was just another laconic senior citizen on the streets of New York where I looked most incongruous amongst the 20-, 30-somethings with the rest of their lives still gleaming ahead, their careers lying in wait like crops yet to be harvested, and lovers they have yet to marry and have children with.
And yet, I prickled with pride, because I knew I was both young and old.
My foot connected with the pavement the moment the lights signaled for the next motor race to begin. A woman in a navy blue pants suit brushed past me roughly, as though I wasn't there, and her briefcase rammed into my calf. I tried to ignore the throbbing pain and watched as the woman wheedled her way through. Her eyes stared blankly ahead.
Inside, my mind was restlessly churning with memories and thoughts, yet outwardly I was just another laconic senior citizen on the streets of New York where I looked most incongruous amongst the 20-, 30-somethings with the rest of their lives still gleaming ahead, their careers lying in wait like crops yet to be harvested, and lovers they have yet to marry and have children with.
And yet, I prickled with pride, because I knew I was both young and old.