A story about connection.
On a random morning this past August, I woke up to discover that I was out of almond milk. It’s a crucial component in my coffee ritual, so I ambled sleepily to the nearest grocery store for a new carton. My hair was still unbrushed, and there was nothing in my pockets but my phone and a $5 bill. It was around 7am. Rose gold sunlight dripped from Brooklyn’s brick buildings to otherwise untouched sidewalks. Quiet cars hummed by, en route to work, and birds chirped in looped flight between rooftops. As I approached the senior center a few blocks from my apartment, I heard a soft song seeping through its shut windows: the chorus of “happy birthday.” The strangers’ voices beamed in gentle effervescence through the slits in the blinds as I stopped in my tracks. I couldn’t see their faces, but I imagined a gray-haired group of at least five people. I wondered whether there was cake. I pictured candles stuck in sloppy stacks of pancakes or waffles, with tiny flames flickering in an imitation of the waking sun. It was a simple moment that seemed to change everything, staining my mood with its sweetness. It shook me out of my own head, which had begun buzzing with plans and to-do lists and self-focused weekday worries. It reminded me that I am not the center of the universe; that my concerns are mere specks in a world rippling with rich emotions and ever-humming human connections. Just as the song ended with a rush of claps and scattered bursts of “yay,” I captured a quick video of the scene to sew it into my memory. My hand wobbled, and there was nothing to see, anyway. The significance was only the sound — the resonating warmth of the song whose evanescence somehow made it more poignant and precious. … As the international affairs of the past several weeks continue to unravel, being human feels harder than usual. Our culture’s communal guise of blissful denial seems suddenly riddled with corruption, cruelty, and fear. Across modern media from television to Twitter, the news plasters decadent displays of distressing disarray that are almost inescapable. My Facebook feed reeks of mass cultural confusion, boiling and steaming like a nauseating soup of disgruntled opinions stirred with superficial frivolities. One second, we’re mourning the deaths of innocent civilians to tragic acts of terrorism; the next, we’re…
Post to Tumblr