I hear the honking of cars, the voices of angry drivers, the screech of tires against the hard broken black streets with the worn away white pain, the ticks as the traffic light changes from red to green. The angry drivers are like dogs barking at feeding hour but calm when they’re not sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic. I can smell that city musk, the scent of pretzels and fresh roasted peanuts, the occasional whisk of black smoke as the bus goes by filled with people on their own journeys in life. It’s true what they say, this is the city that never sleeps, never misses a heart beat like a pro-athlete never wanting to miss a game. From the time I go to school till the time I go to bed, I can hear the echoes of sound bouncing off the brick buildings, through Central Park, down the street and into my lonesome window. You might say your bedroom is the most relaxing place for you, but my place has no walls, has one giant open window, I have no door but a ladder that leads me to this place. It may not be a high-end condo but the cold crumbled cement mixed with plaster does just fine for me. This is a place like no other; this is where I can leave it all. There is no need for a chair I don’t like being restricted to where I can sit. I might sit on the ledge today and in the middle tomorrow. I’m filled with burdens everyday, the fact of holding down the fort. My mom does not arrive till 7 so until then I am alone. My father I do not see until Friday evenings and Saturdays then it’s back to the office. On my roof I become a different person, I see the bright gleaming lights in Time Square and the yellow dots that cover the streets in taxicabs, and this is where I am relaxed. No amount of money, vacation, or present can make me relaxed as much as this view does. I can be alone with myself but still be alive in the city as well. Sometimes I fall into a trance, and I picture myself in a field in the hills of Scranton, Pennsylvania during the season of Fall and I take it all in; the different warm colors. I find myself in this place most of the time but it only takes one honk, one yell, one screech of tires to bring me back into reality, but I’m okay with that because everyone must deal with what they have in life. Whether it’s not seeing my father that much or having to take care of the house, I must live with what I have. I’ve found that pearl in the black murky water, that place where I can get away, that place is my roof which one day is a field the next it’s a lake wherever my imagination takes me, I ride along and enjoy the trip because I take life day by day for what it’s worth and enjoy every minute of it.
The Pearl in the Murky Water
February 24, 2010