Keep Walking

Whenever I get together with Patrick, we walk. He's a big walker. The last time I visited him in New York we walked all over the city.

One evening, we found ourselves walking by the World Trade Center site. It hadn't been our destination. In fact, we rarely have a destination in mind when we set out.

"That's the World Trade Center site," Patrick pointed out to me.

"Yeah?"

I followed him toward the brightly lit construction area. But I wasn't really looking down into what still amounts to a huge hole. I was watching the people.

Families were getting off of tour busses and taking pictures in front of the site like it was the Grand Canyon or something. It was odd. To say the least.

Patrick stopped walking ten or so feet in front of the fence. I stood next to him for a moment.

Then without turning or looking at him I said, "I don't want to be here right now."

And we walked away. Without saying a word. We walked all over the Financial District and ended up spending some time at the South Street Seaport.

I hadn't thought of that since then. Until today.

Because today, that is how I feel.

I glance at my watch, like I do a hundred thousand times a day, and I see the date.

And I don't want to be here right now.