A young man calls to a girl on a bicycle, You have to finish telling me about your drugged out professor! as she rides away
laughing. She waves as she disappears around the corner, perhaps promising to tell him the ending of the story, or perhaps
ending the story.
In a window at the side of my building, a beautiful white cat with black spots sits serenely, gazing at me with calm amber eyes.
I've seen better, she seems to be saying. She's right.
My Italian neighbor stops to say good morning. He doesn't speak English, but with the way he clasps my hands with both of his,
he doesn't need to.
A small boy skips across a busy intersection, unafraid because he is holding his father's hand tightly. He looks up at his father,
not the traffic, his face glowing with happiness and trust, his father's with utter love.
In a more or less traditional manner. This morning, I read the papers in my bijou hotel room with the 80th Macy's Thanksgiving Day
Parade on the flat-screen TV, while sipping room service coffee and feeling quite thankful.
Holiday shopping starts early in New York, and when in New York, go shopping. After all, it's a local tradition, especially this time of
year. I have to say, the city looks so pretty in its holidaywear that I can hardly wait to get home and put up my tree.