I’ve been feeling blue the past week. Two years ago this
week Jack went into the hospital for what turned out to be the last time.
Yesterday I
went down to Battery Park. Jack loved New York City, as only a convert to the
city can. We sometimes went to Battery Park and wandered along the waterfront.
I wasn’t exactly retracing our steps, because the park has changed. There’s theSeaglass Carousel, sea-creature shaped
sculptures one can sit in; it wasn’t running when I walked by, but it looked
like something Jack might have liked.
I sat
facing the harbor, the Statue of Liberty across the water, Governor’s Island to
the left and Staten Island beyond; Ellis Island, Liberty Island, and New Jersey
to the right; and in the far distance the cranes that lift containers off the
freighters and put them on trains. Seagulls perched on pilings, backs to the
wind.
Nearby, I
found the labyrinth I had walked last summer. Walking it yesterday, it felt
like a way of moving forward while staying in the same place. Is that where my
grief is taking me these days? I do keep moving, but I seem to be still in the
same place. Maybe that’s where I need to be right now.
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