It’s still dark as I make my way to the Park, the temperature barely hitting 30.
I’m wearing so many clothes it looks as if I’ve just sneaked out of a hotel without paying the bill, the only way to travel in these chilly climes.
The sleepy streets are empty except for someone in the distance walking their dog.
As they come nearer I see it’s a girl who couldn’t be more than 12 or 13, still wearing her PJs that are exactly like a pair of mine.
Along with Uggs she probably jumped into minus socks, a little cap and a light weight navy parka, the cold didn’t seem to be bothering her.
Her dog, a white Bulldog with serious width, appears warmer in a fur coat making him look like a fat, short Liberace.
As I approach smiling, chilly despite my layers, say, “Aren’t you cold in just your pajamas?”
“Nah, I’m good,” she says, smiling back, strolling like we were in Palm Beach.
The dog, who seems annoyed he has to stop, grunts before lifting his leg.
“Well,” I guess he told me.”
This kid giggles, the pom-poms of her hat swinging like a pendulum making me like her right away. There was nothing of the snoot in her you often encounter in an Upper East Side preteen.
I keep smiling, even as I peel off knowing, I’ll remember her, especially when I wear my green plaid L.L. Bean pajamas and jump into my Uggs without socks.