Living by downtown, I easily forget how breathtaking the skyline can be. The air was bitingly crisp, the view ahead exceptionally clear. A faint halo hovers over this city of angels tonight.
After a long wait at the vet, I was finally able to take George home. I circled my neighborhood and all the surrounding streets for almost half an hour, finding parking a way’s way from my apartment. It was almost midnight, and I always feel uneasy walking home alone late at night. This night, already standing at the edge of my physical and emotional limits, I surprisingly felt brave and emboldened. One last mile to go.
I secured George into his carrier, which I wear on my front like a front version of a backpack. He’s too heavy and overall too large to carry in hand or in cross-body carriers, so I carry him on my front like a kangaroo carries a Joey. He was surprisingly curious and kept his head out to watch the cars passing by. Usually he keeps his head tucked in, threatened by booming noises from the street. Maybe he was just happy to be out of the animal hospital.
We had a long walk home, but fortunately along well-lit streets. I ran into a row of electric scooters, which were a welcome solution to my long, final uphill walk. I scanned the QR code and struggled to find balance hopping on, with George on my front and my backpack on my back, hobbling on like an awkward upright turtle. The guys at the corner taco stand on the other side of the broad intersection cheered and applauded as I pushed with my right foot and got going. I didn’t know I needed it but I was grateful.
I rode up the hill to my apartment, George lulled to sleep by the ride and now snoozing soundly. I parked the scooter and passed through the garden walkway to my doorstep. We were both happy to be home.
In between the rush of work, I found some time yesterday to slow my pace and seek silence. I thought I’d share some rooftop views of the city: on one side, the sun stretching out its rays with a final exhale before meeting the horizon; on the other, the city welcoming a quiet stillness before nightfall.
I often find it hard to sit still. It’s so easy to get caught up in everything and with everyone, especially during these times that require so much delicate attention, reflection, and action. Yesterday and today, I’m spending some time thinking about my own origin story and the labor of my ancestors bringing me to this time and place. What will my own descendants say about today? What do we have the license to rewrite and retell?