I was sitting in the park enjoying a few moments of sun, a Swiss and cucumber sandwich by my side. I’m trying to take advantage every time it appears for its brief, late November cameo. As I age, cold becomes my biggest foe. Doesn’t matter what I wear or how many layers I don, it moves right in like a raccoon in an unlocked basement.
Despite it being only 38 degrees, it’s comfortable where I sit facing the 72nd Street Boat Pond watching people pass. No one, I notice, is really strolling…they all have that pressing gait unlike myself, peacefully perched.
Carmela comes to mind as I sit here, since this is one of our weekend haunts. In less than a month she’ll be gone to God knows where causing my heart to wince like its caught in a vice.
I chase the thought telling myself…we still don’t have an ending, so chin up Susannah…in the 11th hour all could happily change. Stay in the moment, which reminds me of my sandwich I’ve totally forgotten about.
I take out half, the cheese and mayo spilling out…and start to eat, loving its taste wrapped in all that sweet green…when a lady of Slavic descent with big red cheeks ambles over gazing at the other half still in its paper and says. “That looks really good…are you gonna eat that?”
I couldn’t help but to smile since no one I know would even think of eating a cheese and cucumber sandwich slathered in enough mayo to raise your blood pressure to kingdom come, so I said, “No, would you like to try it? It’s my favorite sandwich.”
So the two of us sat in the sunshine, a slight wind at our backs, and ate….while I told her all about Carmela.