Snapshot
by Your Diva, Robin Pastorio-Newman

Your Darling, Your Diva, Your One True Love and Larry, a little black cat bent on stealing your soul, spent the weekend snowed-in with a good book - coincidentally called Lost In A Good Book - and piles of cat treats. Brownies were baked for no good reason until the super shoveled out our parking spaces. Apparently, shivering young men with outdoor excavation tools appreciate unexpected baked goods on frosty afternoons. Hopefully, he's not allergic to walnuts or he's a goner.
 
Tonight, the small city is a simple patchwork of skeletal trees, train trestles and old houses as far as the eye can see. The hospital, still and brightly lit, rises above French Street like a wall at the end of the visible world. In the humid night air, streetlight diffuses softly, lending a sepia cast to a view of the city, changing in time, that someone has seen for the better part of the last century.
 
This afternoon, Your Delight pulled on a pair of work boots, warm clothes and a pillowy outdoor coat for a walk to the bodega. How people survive without bodegas on every corner becomes a mystery to the citydweller after a few years of citydwelling: get in the car for a quart of milk... are you kidding? When you can walk to the corner for leche or crema?
 
A bodega, in case you don't have one, is likely to have people standing around outside and people keeping warm inside, so you can't be shy. Smile, nod, keep going. The floor inside this particular bodega is not level with the sidewalk outside, so walking in involved grabbing a candy rack inside the door and pulling oneself up to stand on the wet floor. Leaving is another story. Engineers will understand that an eighteen inch drop in a distance of one foot on a muddy floor equals a pile of bodies on the sidewalk or happy snow-suited children squealing with glee.
 
Outside again, the nearly slushy snow on the sidewalk that will be shoveled the same day pigs fly serves as a constant reminder that the moment the mind wanders the pedestrian will find herself staring skyward from a suddenly prone position. Thus it is a tremendous surprise to arrive at one's door unharmed, small groceries in hand.
 
A little peace, a little quiet, a little snowfall. A gentle picture, a small city, the end of January. It's just a snapshot of this moment for another day.
 

©2005 Robin Pastorio-Newman