Rotorglow

Puddle Duck
Originally uploaded by rotorglow at 7 Sep '06, 12.53am EDT.

I've been in a generally shitty mood for a couple of weeks. Since I was a kid I've felt angsty about the end of summer, but recently it's gone beyond that for reasons I'm just now starting to understand, and will write more about soon.

But sometimes things break through.

As I was walking from the T to my office, I went past the semi-permanent greenish puddle on Beach Street (though it's much larger than an "puddle" might lead you to believe. And there was a carved wooden duck, floating, next to the waterlogged cardboard the trash guys refused to haul away. It was just floating there, not even bobbing because there were no waves on the puddle, no breath of air in the damp morning. And it made me smile.

Before I even got there, things hadn't been going well. I'd managed to lose my T pass between the staircase of my building (where I was when I double-checked that I had it with me) and the T stop, not 7 minutes away at a slow trudge. I stood outside the turnstile, checking and re-checking all of my pockets, my wallet, other stacks of bills, etc. I debated retracing my steps, even all the way back home, but was super late, and on some level couldn't even believe that I'd really lost it.

So I decided to just forget about it, and headed to the token booth to buy a token. One please, I said, putting a couple of bills through the slot. You look like you lost some money, said the agent with a bit of a smile, pulling the bills toward him. Well, I said, actually it seems I lost my T pass. Oh, he said, smile disappearing. He pushed my money back through the slot toward me, and I looked up. Go on through, he said, and hooked a thumb at the open gate. I was really shocked, and even more touched. Such a small gesture (that doesn't even affect him personally), but it really struck me. And I really needed it. I sat on the train, weirdly dazed, simultaneously feeling wretched and reassured all out of proportion to the cause and resolution of the whole thing.

My dear friends Tim and Kat had a baby this morning. His name is Miles, and he's a big one, as babies go. He's a tiny person--a whole person!--not very useful or convenient, or maybe even all that much fun at this point, but with stuff to learn and teach. Which is all a pretty big thing, for such a little...thing...to be facing and causing. And even from all the way over here, I'm a little awed.

"Awed." Yeah. That'll have to do for now.