Dudurudh

This is my favorite time of the year.  

My spring sheer curtains are up and the windows are open. The filter of darkness that used to engulf everything at 4 has now mercifully vanished so we can see the world in color again — even at 8.

Outside, a new mother is chasing her kid who is speeding on a scooter — not his. Meanwhile, a young babysitter is with a toddler in a stroller. She’s on her phone and the lettuce in her sandwich is hanging out precariously. The baby, flower bunch in tiny hand, is observing, then giggling, then watching plainly and frowning and giggling again. This world is new to her but she’s got the basics down — always seek out wildflowers on a spring day. 

Today, all the store fronts are open. 

The bbq sauce from someone’s plate is in my nostrils. 

Even the threading salon, which I thought was abandoned, has a client. 

The birds are in joyous panic it seems. Why would they not be? That Boeing’s jetstream is the only blemish in an otherwise perfectly clear blue sky and even that is kind of beautiful. 

We get to play football sans frozen faces. There’s a dude running a 5k while reading a book (and a lady running with her baby in tow). 

The power walking finance bro in a plaid shirt and khaki trousers doesn’t realize the six pack in his tote is leaking dew. No one is bothered — specially not the Shih Tzu who has dashed across the side walk to sniff the contents of that leakage and decided she wants none of it. She too knows a secret — tonight these streets will smell of alcohol and piss and weed and smoke but breathe free until then. 

The spring is full of these moments. 

At precisely 7:18PM the setting sun casts a particular hue on the pre-war brownstone that we sometimes dream of renting all together — all the homes on all the floors with all our friends. So that on days like this we can bask like lizards on my divan and floor and couch and laugh and rot and pass sugar just by reaching out of your balcony and grab all the mail from the mailman so we can lazily sort through the insurance checks and tennis court permits and post cards from distant friends and Zohran flyers and Keyfoods promos and letters from the consulate for the greek couple who lived here alone without friends.

April brought spring.

May brought life.