Life Alive

My little sister and I ate in the basement of a crunchy hippie restaurant last month. There was a woman eying us from across the room. Emily thought she was a psychic, and judging by her hanging shawls and stack of cards, I thought so too. She wore a headpiece with draping gold discs, something between a crown and a hat, like an African princess. It was a distracting thing to have in one's peripheral vision, and eventually I decided to ask her what she was about.

"Goddess card readings," she answered. "It's really fun - we just see what card you draw and talk about what it might mean for your life. I've been doing this for many years, and everyone gets just the right card." With two sisters in the middle of life crises, she had hit the jackpot.

She handed us the stack of cards. We both drew from the middle of the deck.
Emily uncovered Aphrodite, the goddess of Love.
For me, Oshun, goddess of Sensuality.
Two sisters, sixty possibilities, and this is what we get.
"Amazing that two sisters should draw this pair!" she remarked. "So... tell me what you think it means."

We were both silent. We didn't care what we thought; we wanted her to tell us. - Everything. I would have let her make all of my big decisions right then and there. But instead, she talked of self-love and hot baths and fresh-cut flowers. But the reading still produced my answers. It just happened to be that I already knew them.

Origami

I watched a girl about my age take a piece of patterned red paper out of her bag. It was the same size as a gum wrapper, but much denser. She began folding it, in half one way, then another, flipping and turning it in a entrancing rhythm of fold, crease, fold, crease. She knew the pattern well, so much that her field of attention picked up my staring.

"What are you making?" I asked, caught.
"A crane. If you make a thousand, you get a wish."
"Oh yeah, I think I've heard of that! How many do you have?"
"I think four hundred now."
"Have you been going a while?"
"About five months," she said, as she shaped the beak of the paper creature. "Do you want this one?"

Obviously I did. I thanked her profusely and examined it before tucking it in the pocket of my raincoat. It's beautiful, with the paper's bold colors intertwining along its creases, which are impeccable despite the nonchalance of the maker. I wondered about her 1000-crane wish as she walked up the stairs, her head tilted slightly to the left.

Profiles of Normal People in the Present Tense Explained

It occurred to me that many of the people I feature on my blog are eccentric. While eccentricity will always be the key to my heart, I'd like to share some accounts of people who are not so bold - people who blend in. This series will be called Profiles of Normal People in the Present Tense. Stay tuned!

Civil Disobedience

Freaky Friday

People hate cockroaches because they are creepy and scuttle around at the speed of light. But the last time I saw one, I had a thought: What if that is simply their response to seeing humans, which is the only time we see them? And if that's the case, what must they think of us?

"Gross! Humans! They scream and point and hop in place!"

Gina

"Good morning," she said, stopping me at the door to an empty 6am Au Bon Pain.
"Morning," I replied.
"Spare some change on the way out?"
"Maybe," I replied. "Oh no, I don't have any cash. I have to pay with my debit card."
"Would you buy me a cup of coffee in there?" How logical. Of course, my mind searched first for how that could possibly inconvenience me, but I couldn't come up with anything.
"Sure," I said. I stopped myself on the other side of the door. "What size?"
"Just a small," she said. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."

I watched her as I slopped oatmeal into a paper cup. She looked like an unlikely candidate to be begging for breakfast. She had a nice leather jacket, floral collared shirt, tasteful makeup on her face. But there was something in her eyes that said she hadn't just forgotten her wallet.

"Do you want anything to eat?"
"Yes," she said, moving toward the pastries.
She set her cinnamon bun on the counter next to my oatmeal.
"We're together," I said. I watched the man swipe my card and thought of the extra five imaginary dollars for Gina. Spare change. Not as grand a gesture as a five dollar bill - way easier. But sad to be so near someone and her broken eyes.
"May God bless you a thousand times over, forever and ever, Amen."
"Thank you," I said.  She ate in the front window seat.
"You have a blessed weekend now, you hear?"
"You too. Bye Gina." 

Story Time

Last week there was a stroller crowding the middle of the train during rush hour. Seated in front of the stroller was a young mother with her little daughter on her lap. The toddler sucked her thumb and wore a fuzzy brown jacket that had earned her the nickname "Bear." The train was loaded with people, but all were silent except the mom, who read aloud to her bear in sing-song tones. I was lulled by the stillness of the train and the smooth rhythm of the story. The book was called "Little Bear," obviously a favorite. I tried not to stare, but as I averted my gaze, I realized that others were struggling with the same thing. Many people had their eyes glued to the page of the book, watching the pictures as the story went by. 

Miscellaneous Hat Day

Waiting for a train, an old man opened a USPS flat rate envelope over his head. He spread it open, looked inside, and calmly reached the crown of his head between the folds. He was still wearing it when my train left. A few seats down from where I sat, I saw another white-haired man in a shower cap.

Did I miss the memo on this?

Down the Rabbit Hole

My friend Katie and I stumbled upon a traveling circus in the middle of Downtown Crossing. A passerby saw us eyeing the box office and handed us a pair of tickets.

"These'll getcha in if you wanna see! Intermission will be over in about two minutes."

And just like that, we were at the circus. It was pitch black inside - the better to sell kid-friendly glow sticks. Strobing neon spotlights illuminated the packed stadium and its bouquets of cotton candy. It's astonishing sometimes how much life is like Alice in Wonderland.

"You're late!" said the ticket man.
"We're very late!" said Katie.

Three pony-riding goats, an amazing balancing man, and a geriatric clown later, we headed back out the main gate.

"The show's not over yet, ladies."
It never is, I thought.

Death Wish

Wednesday was an incredible day. The sun shone warmly through the cold spring, and I decided to wait outside while my laundry tumbled. I lay down on a hilltop park bench to feel the heat on my face, chatting to my mom on the phone, with nowhere to be and nothing to do.

And then I heard screaming in the square below. Repetitive, rhythmic words, like a mantra. I couldn't make them out, so I sat up and went to peer over the side of the hill. A man stood in the middle of the traffic rotary, under the same perfect sun, screeching, crying out, "Run me over! Run me over! Run me over! Run me over!"