The First Week of February
We picked up ten minneolas, some halumi and sushi for two. There’s nothing more beautiful than sushi, Play-doh looking and being dipped into tiny cups of soy sauce. My nose burns. “Too much wasabi?” my little companion asks me and I can’t help but smile. Which leads me to take in another large breath, and there I am, with the second wave of the burn. It’s 3 degrees below zero, Fahrenheit’s the scale, outside but there’s no wind so that’s nice and besides, we’re in the store for the moment. Plus, very few people are walking the streets which doesn’t happen very often in broad daylight and we linger on the happiness of having a city to ourselves.
A rush of cars go by, and the thought is disrupted. The yellow Mini Cooper that usually sits parked near the school for deaf children isn’t there and the boy notices it. He can spot a Mini Cooper from a mile away, and typically does.
Later, back at home and looking out of the window that picture frames the North Eastern skyline of the neighboring ghetto I’m peeling some orangey fruit and staring. The drab grey of winter’s cloudly sky meeting the harsh black/browns dotted white of the city’s trees, buildings and floor, combined with the factory-like apartment building looming high above smoking chimneys reminds me that I’m not far from living in a Dickens’ novel. A dog won’t stop barking and it sounds nice. Very nice.
The minneolas are the best I’ve ever had.