I had already threatened the environmental guy that he better not mess with the babies. I didn't threaten threaten but I demanded do know what he was going to do down there and something about there being babies and you're not going to mess with them, which was not quite a question but more like I'm asking it like a question because really you could have me arrested if I put a period at the end of those words...
He was from New York so he understood and probably lied through his teeth saying it would be fine.
I didn't see anything moving for days and regretted putting a question mark on the end of my sentence.
Then just today, there in the man-made puddle.. the itty-bitties not so little as they swam about, their parents always nearby.
Maybe it's watching parents who really love their kids, or maybe its nature defying all the stupidity we do to this earth, but seeing them this morning made my feet sing like a little kid's. ** Related Posts:
MY PRIVATE CONEY presents IT WAS HER NEW YORK, the short stories that accompany the work-in-progress video and photo collection of the same name (myprivateconey.com - media link - IT WAS HER NEW YORK). The stories and the media explore the tender rubble that holds both my mother, Florence's and New York's soul as one disappears into old age and the other into gentrification. All are real observations and/or experiences with very little tall-tale telling.
Except when it makes the story better.
Please visit myprivateconey.com for additional information and sample works.