A cardinal coming in for a landing on a fencepost right in front of me as if to say, hey, what a day, huh?
My neighbor, in the lobby, yelling at the Fairway delivery boy who forgot her orange juice smiling when he politely said, “Lada, ah just da-liva, ah don’t pack.”
My super putting sunblock on his big, bald head.
Kenny the mailman looking quite spiffy in his postal regulation Bermuda shorts even though his legs are as bowed as the Lincoln Tunnel.
Patrick the cat coiffing in the hallway where, to quote my grandfather, his ballings used to be.
The array of pastels people are wearing while restlessly waiting on the subway platform.
An old man on the train reading Hemingway.
Two school girls in identical uniforms sweetly holding hands.
A puppy’s little tail merrily wagging from a Barnes and Noble tote.
“Did that come with the bag?” I ask grinning.
He grins back, gently tucking it back in.
A pretty, plump, well-dressed woman of color feeling faint, and the whole car helping her: the Chinese woman who gave her a fan, a hard hat his seat, me a bottle of water and what was most impressive, the well-heeled, gray haired lady, her lace hankie to dab at the perspiration dripping down her flushed face.
“No, this is your good handkerchief,” she said with alarm.
And our own Mrs. Astor without missing a beat replied, “Now now, I have many, and besides, this is what they’re for.