One Too Many Mornings

Williamsburgh Savings Tower, seen from a roof in Cobble Hill.

Another exhausting weekend flew by and I’m scrambling to catch up with all the work I put off while organizing, setting up, and finally taking down the art show. I’ll post more about that and my rooftop birthday party later, but I thought I would make a quick post to check in. I don’t want to loose my readers! Today I used my lunch break to get a delicious smoothie and then walked to Tompkins Square. I passed the windows of Obscura Antiques, where there was a creepy fencing mask and an animal skull with long teeth. I heard a man whistling the tune that the Mr. Softee ice cream trucks play, which was greatly disappointing an expectant child. I remember when the ice cream truck would come in Bartlesville; I think it always played “Turkey in the Straw.” Today, with the windows open in my apartment to try to let in some cool air, I heard what sounded like a children’s piano playing. It had that ice cream truck shrillness to it that the colorful keyboards do. Whoever was playing it somehow managed to transition from “Happy Birthday” to the theme from Schindler’s List. That takes talent and nerves. I wish I could remember all the little moments of the day, but they get lost in my head. But the important ones always seem to surface at some point. The summer heat is already making an early appearance, and there’s a whole world of night noises that I’m learning as I try to sleep with the windows open to the air.

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