I had just finished my evening shift at the Wallgreens downtown. You know, the one across from Millennium Park that all the tourists come to. "Where is Grant Park? Where is State Street? Where can I find the Red Line train?" This time of year answers are our main product; that and lots of water, soda pop, and candy bars. Thankfully we're coming to the end of it. With autumn comes the return to normalcy, but I can feel the summer exhaustion set in. The hours 8PM to 11PM drag on, punishing, dragging like an Egyptian slave drags a block of the pyramids. Is this what I will remember from the summer before my senior year of high school?
The trips home after that shift are always the longest. The number 56 bus and I have become the best of friends. 11:04PM and I wait at the lonely stop. A family is beside me.
Joseph and Samuel, two brothers, not tourists. Joseph was no more than 7. He had the body of the boy who would be picked last for every sport in gym class. He had clearly been overfed on a diet that would tie his stomach up in knots for years. It's something I could relate to, but I thought it better not to give any unsolicited advice that this moment.
His parents. Overwhelmed (and in physical appearance, clearly of contrasting philosophies on diet and health). Joseph and Samuel were done with the city. They wanted to get home and they were vocal. More importantly, Joseph wanted to go to the bathroom—.
So, Joseph had to go potty. He made that much clear to his father. He made that much clear to his mother. He would have made that much clear to his little brother Samuel, if he didn't so desperately have to go potty. But this was downtown and for the family from the suburbs, downtown Chicago doesn't exactly present a lot of options when its 11PM and your child is on the verge of explosion.
Joseph began yanking at his father's arm, holding his other hand against his stomach. His mother began panicking. Now was the time to offer my unsolicited advice. I told them which buses would get them to the Metra station as quickly as possible. Joseph's parents debated. I told them that there weren't many other options at this hour. Joseph cried out again that he had to go potty. They looked for an available bus, but none were coming. Joseph moaned in pain, and his father took action. Joseph's father took him by the hand and stated that they were going to find a place now. A waste of time. He began to walk away when he realized that Joseph was not with him. Joseph had gone potty.
It was 11:12PM. I was waiting for the number 56 bus.
11 October, 2009
04 October, 2009
Unexpected autumn
Signs of change were in the air. Damp blades of grass almost hinting at frost. Leaves browned, fallen to the ground. Two chipmunks scrambling over a fallen acorn.
Signs of change in the Windy city, autumn was well on its way. With a new season comes change. A chance to see familiar surroundings in a new light.
It was under this mindset of something new that a few unexpected occurrences took place.
An old woman, slowly walking along where stone meets water. One arm decrepit and dangling wastefully toward the stone fence, daring to touch it, as if wishing for the touch of the world to return but unsure of what it might feel like. Her head bowed in quiet contemplation, or perhaps exhaustion. She had a small toy with her, two dangling balls at the end of a long string. She metronomically beat her back as if walking in a flagellant procession. Prayers and penitence asking for salvation from an unknown disease. Spooky, and fitting for the month of October.
A turn away from ghastly figures and towards the calm lake. Soothing. The sun shining down along a narrow strip, blinding the eyes, making it hard to focus. To my right a bobbing ball. Not a bobbing ball but a head. A human head. Thankfully arms connected. Arms wadding through the water, slowly making their way towards me, towards shore. But not in any rush. Slowly paddling through water that could not have been any warmer than 55 degrees. No matter, this person seemed to be indifferent to the elements, slowly slowly moving closer. With the sun to this person's back, there was an illuminating glow around them. Their calm controlled demeanor spoke of some coming revelation. A holy message?
These were not the expected visions on a cold Sunday morning. But with autumn's arrival, perhaps it is time to reconsider what is possible.
Signs of change in the Windy city, autumn was well on its way. With a new season comes change. A chance to see familiar surroundings in a new light.
It was under this mindset of something new that a few unexpected occurrences took place.
An old woman, slowly walking along where stone meets water. One arm decrepit and dangling wastefully toward the stone fence, daring to touch it, as if wishing for the touch of the world to return but unsure of what it might feel like. Her head bowed in quiet contemplation, or perhaps exhaustion. She had a small toy with her, two dangling balls at the end of a long string. She metronomically beat her back as if walking in a flagellant procession. Prayers and penitence asking for salvation from an unknown disease. Spooky, and fitting for the month of October.
A turn away from ghastly figures and towards the calm lake. Soothing. The sun shining down along a narrow strip, blinding the eyes, making it hard to focus. To my right a bobbing ball. Not a bobbing ball but a head. A human head. Thankfully arms connected. Arms wadding through the water, slowly making their way towards me, towards shore. But not in any rush. Slowly paddling through water that could not have been any warmer than 55 degrees. No matter, this person seemed to be indifferent to the elements, slowly slowly moving closer. With the sun to this person's back, there was an illuminating glow around them. Their calm controlled demeanor spoke of some coming revelation. A holy message?
These were not the expected visions on a cold Sunday morning. But with autumn's arrival, perhaps it is time to reconsider what is possible.
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