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The heat radiates off the pavement like the entrails of rotting swamp vines. They wrap around and squeeze my chest, make me gasp for fresh air that simply does not exist. It is the city at its worse, when the pollutants lay heavy and the day offers no surcease for the weary. It is not a good MS day. I feel my body sapped of all energy, and I have to force myself to keep going. There have been more days like this than not since my return. Summer has extended beyond any natural boundaries. I love the city, I remind myself. I am living within spaces dominated by air conditioning. Its quiet roar is ever with me at work, at home. I miss silence. I miss the mountains’ two blanket nights.
Over this past five weeks, I have walked with friends along the shore where the Hudson River and East River join with the ocean –a tidal area along Bay Ridge Brooklyn. We searched the rocks for driftwood and made suppositions about its origin. We strolled out on the pier lined with fishing men and boys who were catching red snappers and hoping for a blue fin. I have also walked East 33rd and East 34th Street to my hospital and my cancer center, and returned a little bit lighter despite the omnipresent heat. I am in remission, and I almost dare not say that word less it disappear from wherever it came. I have walked to the Chelsea area for an intensive day-long study on weapons of mass destruction provided by Homeland Security, where I learned security is a very relative concept and am able now to specifically identify why. But I already knew that. I was here for 9-11, so I know nothing happens until it happens. I was here for my own health battles, so I know every moment counts. I have learned how be vigilant and never, never assume. It helps to know what to look for, and I am learning on all fronts. And I have taken a less strenuously “walk” and searched the meter of this site and found connections from as far away as Romania, Australia, Brazil, and Japan, as well as all across the United States. And I think what a miracle this thing called the Web can be despite its dangerous pitfalls. And I wonder what it would be like to hear what led others to my journal, and if they enjoyed their stay.
The heat will pass. All the forecasters predict a cold front is on its way. I think if we are very fortunate, it will be a Canadian high, not unlike the one I lived with this past summer in my mountains. The city air will lighten, and the AC din will give way to more natural sounds like the metal whine of City trash compacters, the shrill screams of fire engines, the whoop-whoop of ambulances, the air brake whoosh of city buses, the metallic thunk-thunk as taxis drive over loose manhole covers, and the shouts and jabbers in many languages of NYC people talking on their cells.
Over this past five weeks, I have walked with friends along the shore where the Hudson River and East River join with the ocean –a tidal area along Bay Ridge Brooklyn. We searched the rocks for driftwood and made suppositions about its origin. We strolled out on the pier lined with fishing men and boys who were catching red snappers and hoping for a blue fin. I have also walked East 33rd and East 34th Street to my hospital and my cancer center, and returned a little bit lighter despite the omnipresent heat. I am in remission, and I almost dare not say that word less it disappear from wherever it came. I have walked to the Chelsea area for an intensive day-long study on weapons of mass destruction provided by Homeland Security, where I learned security is a very relative concept and am able now to specifically identify why. But I already knew that. I was here for 9-11, so I know nothing happens until it happens. I was here for my own health battles, so I know every moment counts. I have learned how be vigilant and never, never assume. It helps to know what to look for, and I am learning on all fronts. And I have taken a less strenuously “walk” and searched the meter of this site and found connections from as far away as Romania, Australia, Brazil, and Japan, as well as all across the United States. And I think what a miracle this thing called the Web can be despite its dangerous pitfalls. And I wonder what it would be like to hear what led others to my journal, and if they enjoyed their stay.
The heat will pass. All the forecasters predict a cold front is on its way. I think if we are very fortunate, it will be a Canadian high, not unlike the one I lived with this past summer in my mountains. The city air will lighten, and the AC din will give way to more natural sounds like the metal whine of City trash compacters, the shrill screams of fire engines, the whoop-whoop of ambulances, the air brake whoosh of city buses, the metallic thunk-thunk as taxis drive over loose manhole covers, and the shouts and jabbers in many languages of NYC people talking on their cells.
posted by AYankee @ 10:42 AM
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