It had only been a couple of weeks but those babies now looked huge, almost the size of their parents as they wandered about a patch.
I had been worried. First there had been no rain and the puddle I often saw them in dried up. Then there were all those NYC Environment trucks, which could have meant construction was going to start soon. Then there was just the wilds of New York, with possible idiots slipping down into the unintended wild life reserve and going after them.
Anything could go wrong.
On top of all that, there were a couple of weeks of taking the bus. But, each time it flew by the lot, I craned on tippy toes trying to see if anyone was still there.
Now, on foot, headed home, I had time to walk down to the highway and take another look at the family.
Two cab drivers strolling back to their cabs saw me leaning into the fence snapping pictures. They stopped. One whipped out his phone and joined me. We all grinned.
And then... perhaps without warning or maybe just spooked by all these snapping bodies leaning against the chain-linked fence...
... what had been just puffballs only a little while ago now stretched big, strong wings and began beating them as if to take flight.
Me and the two cab drivers all gasped and laughed and took more pictures as we watched them finish their unique pre-flight checks and then wander deeper into the grass after their folks.
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.