Going to the Eye Doctor.

Two Asian women sifting through garbage on a sidewalk in Battery Park City, pulling out bottles and cans and chatting amiably with each other. Their bags nearly overflowing with plastic and tin.

The little black dog with the scrunched up face looking intently and eagerly at some invisible object, its owner indifferently gazing out into space.

A couple riding by on their tandem bicycle as a matter of routine, Hudson River behind them as a hazy complement to their ride.

Nanny making faces and baby noises to her charge. My smile stretches wider than I thought possible on a walk through the park. I am warmed further when Nanny smiles back, and then, so does Baby.

Forget-me-nots blooming in the wild. In the heat of the moment, I decide I have to have a stem for my office, a reminder of the outdoors and perfection.

The flowers die on my desk within ten minutes, sadly drooping in their watery paper cup grave. I close my eyes and whisper my apologies.


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