It’s Tuesday, the day after the snow storm that paralyzed New York City for a whole day, but like always, she got up off the mat and got on with her business, explaining why I’m out in my Teddy Roosevelt boots en route to the post office.
I see an elderly couple standing on the corner of 86th and Third. They have the light, yet don’t cross.
It only takes a second to see why.
There’s an imposing layer of ice they’ll have to step on that looks threatening.
After almost falling twice, understanding what it’s like trying not to slip, extend my hand to the woman who looks at me, grabs it and safely makes it over.
I hear a muffled thank you beneath her mask and plastic visor.
Now her husband, I’m assuming that’s who he is since, they seem too old to be living in sin, as my mother would say, had his macho out, waving me away as if I were a big fly.
Yet, he still doesn’t move. The woman says,”Come on Charlie or we’ll be late.”
My arm, that’s getting tired, is still out, so he finally takes it and they press on.
Now it’s my turn, and I too am a little hesitant.
A handsome young man of color is coming towards me the other way. He’s so nicely dressed, he could be a J. Crew ad.
When he sees me stalled like a stuck car, reaches out his hand, gently helping me across.
“Thanks a lot,” I said, thinking….