Sunday, November 8, 2009

The Monster Hushes for Shabat

A lovely damp night, cool with overcast skies of rains past. Quiet Sunday chatter of young friends before they return to school, old friends before they return to work; people walk or jog or bike along the soggy path in the soft murmuring night. Buses heave through stoplights and laughs rise; traffic slowly sighs over the rain-watered roadways. Distant apartment lights come on and balcony lights turn on then off. Mothers with daughters carry the weeks produce home from market. The neon lights never calm down, even on a Sabbath evening. Two old men speak in disgruntled tones, but what of? A family of three moseys through savoring ice cream cones and casual conversation. The daughter notices something above. Her father looks, but keeps going. She looks a little longer and lags behind. The family goes at its own pace, like their family name. A little girl chuckles into her mother and grandmother's downward glance. They lift her by each hand over a puddle. A boy and girl hold hands. An old man struts in his wind-suit. A young couple, laughing together, splits a husband and wife quietly strolling the opposite way around the park perimeter. An airplane casts its roar over the steady hum of traffic and conversation. An old man hollers some form of 'so long' to his buddies and peddles off. A cool breeze passes through the scene like a gentle whispered prayer. whish whish whish whish grows louder as she passes, power-walking under the cooling evening. Crickets mirr in the bushes and a dog starts barking. The sounds are mostly familiar and steady with an occasional man breaking in with violent coughing phlegm and a whlup to throw it out of his mouth. Lights reflect off the glossy pavement and dark figures amble through the empty park center. Three young girls bring a rush of silly and wrestle and tickle and giggle and squeel, then momentarily settle, but it rises and falls for a while as they carry the games further away. A man in a black jacket and black pants walks with a long black umbrella he uses as a casual walking cane, tapping the walkway with each right step. It's 8 o'clock and the clouds are low.


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