in the wild

Coffee shop and uncomfortable stool. Weak coffee. Strings and strands of christmas lights. I want to cry but no real tears come. I leave my children to climb the five flights of stairs to my sister’s apartment by themselves. I am alone outside now. On the wooden stool, sideways. This is the only coffee shop open past 3pm. Everywhere else shutters up early. These used to be the places of luxury. Free wifi. A place to sit. Coffee to drink. A guaranteed run-into-a-friend.

Kids on the stoop on Clinton, talking loudly like almost-adult-boys do. Talking about the deadlines for Northwestern, for Washington, like they are real places to go to school. Where is school?

I’m taking the top off to cool this coffee down so I can chug it. The worker steps outside and starts to bring in the other table and chairs. I should go. But I tipped him super well, also because they had nothing but pennies to give me for change so I said keep it!, so I’ll stay for a moment longer. Write as much as I can before I have to put this thing away.

Open door on Clinton, my kids stop in their tracks to peer into the long and ornate hallway leading down to multiple apartment doors, packages stacked to halfway up the wall. The warm light of the sconces in the hall makes it all look sepia-toned. That looks fancy, they say. Yes.

Let me in to your homes. I have a negative test result. I’ll walk slow in my white flannel nightgown, carrying the burning candle with my hand cupped around the flame. I’ll not touch a thing, just look. I’ll find the creaks in the floorboards with my bare feet, but you won’t hear me except for that. I will find the softest seat, but I won’t make myself comfortable. I’ll sit, legs crossed low at the ankles, hands resting on my thighs, palms upward and relaxed. My eyes will begin to canvass the room, taking in detail. I’ll see all the woodwork, the fresh boughs bought, not found on the street the way I usually acquire them. I’ll breath in the pine, still hanging in the air. It’s just a visit.

The tables are being pulled inside. The glass doors are closing. It’s time to go.