Time Fades Away: One Sunday in Washington Heights

This morning the fog lifted to unveil a pristine blue sky. I always look forward to this moment, because the bridge seems to be made of polished silver.

I did not immediately rush outside to enoy the day, however, but worked on my novel tumblr blog while Stephen tended to the orchids. At some point I took a break and remembered the previous night, when Zephyr had sat on my head while were were watching Top Chef Las Vegas. It made me think of a series of jokes I used to perform as a child, one of which entailed placing a hand on my head as if it were the claw of a cat and saying (somewhat archly): 'would some1 puh-lease take the cat off my head?' I'm not sure why it wasn't immediately apparent to all concerned that my destiny was from that point forward to join the ranks of the non-heterosexuals. (Please ignore the 'zit' on my chin in the above shot, which was unavoidably taken with a flash.)

This afternoon, we decided to go to the house. In the elevator we were pleasantly surprised to find what appeared to be a pair of non-heterosexual young 20-somethings moving into the building. If this makes me sound shallow and superficial, I completely understand, and if you're inclined toward this judgment, I might recommend that you not read about how excited I was only seconds later to see another pair of what appeared to be non-heterosexual young men, strolling up Broadway. I would have documented this perfectly, except that someone stuck her 'big hair' into the shot and I was also trying to negotiate a shelving unit that Stephen and I were taking to the apartment. Sometimes life is s00 complicated! We went to the backyard, where we were saddened to find a dead sparrow.

I wondered if it had ever lived anywhere but Washington Heights, and I worried about my own fate in this regard. 'Please god,' I prayed, 'even though I don't exactly believe in u, don't let me die in Washington Heights.'

On the other hand, there is something to said for going out on a bed of old bricks and green moss.

Using the cut lilies our friend Ken brought over the other night, we held a short funeral procession. (Actually we didn't, but I did feel compelled to take more pictures because they are blooming so beautifully.)

They looked wonderful in the last of the late-afternoon sunlight. 'Look at the way our azaleas have bloomed,' I joked to Stephen.

Honestly, I don't know what I used to do before the advent of 'digital photography.' Whenever I'm careening toward an extreme of depression and pessimism, I remind myself that were it not for the Canon 'Powershot' G9, my life would be s000 much more inhibited.

Out front there were two ambulances. 'Don't take a picture of the ambulance,' Stephen said to me when he saw them. 'I won't,' I said, although by that point it was too late. For a second I wondered if they were here for the sparrow, but it turned out that they were helping a person (who fortunately did not seem too ill, although not wanting to gawk, I did not watch closely or ask for details).

In fact, I was distracted by yet another non-heterosexual man (if my 'gaydar' can be trusted) who at this precise moment happened to meander by. The front of his shirt said: 'Trust me, I'm a virgin.' I remarked to Stephen that I had never seen so many non-heterosexuals in our neighborhood. 'We can only hope,' he said, because the truth is, we could use a few more around here to counter the 'macho bullshit' that tends to predominate on street corners (via 'Caribbean Culture').

As we walked back to the apartment, we enjoyed the cool breezes and the amber sunlight slanting down from the west. We regretted that our courtyard garden doesn't seem to benefit from these breezes. 'It's too stifling for the plants!' Stephen said, and I could only agree. Some things about the garden we have to accept. (In that last sentence, 'garden' -- as is often the case -- is a metaphor for 'life'.)

Back in the apartment, we found Dante, Zephyr and Elektra in a 'convoy' on their puffs. Once again, let it be said that they are well-positioned to win a gold medal in this event in the next 'Catlympics.'

I looked out the window at the brige, sitting placidly under the clouds. I thought of the sparrow, which would never again see this magnificent light, and hoped that it was 'in a better place.'

Resquiat in pace, little sparrow -- know that u will 'live 4ever' on the infinite pages of the internet.

'Time fades away'

--Lil sparrow

 

Comments

[Harpy]

I'm reminded of the Dennis Potter movie "Brimstone and Treacle" were Sting utters the line; "Not a sparrow falls". Quoting a psalm that says the invisible "god" cares about everything. If that god existed perhaps we would have a better world.

[mtobin]

Good post Matt.. always makes me smile, though not at the expense of the poor sparrow..

[hmfridholm]

I found this stream of photos and commentary particularly moving.

[Matthew Gallaway]

Thank u, Holly!!!

On Sun, Sep 13, 2009 at 2:54 PM, wrote: