I’m halfway through reading RECURSION by Blake Crouch. It’s described as a science fiction thriller, and is filled with technical jargon about past memories and present experiences and the mental bridge created between them. I’m enjoying it, though I have to admit I shed a tear when one of the MCs described her mother, who is suffering from dementia. It was an apt description, and a familiar one.
I visited NYC once, many years ago, with my ex-husband. We took Amtrak from Baltimore to New York, went to a cat show at Madison Square Garden, had lunch in Chinatown, and returned that same afternoon on the train. It was fun. Here’s the passage from the book I’m reading, that I wanted to share with you:“It was a long walk here, and yes, for much of it he was crying. That’s one of the great thing about New York—no one cares about your emotional state as long as there’s no blood involved.”
No blood...and no small child.
Some years back I was transiting through the Herald Square subway station. It's a big station, directly under Macys at 33rd Street, and serves seven subway lines.
The turnstiles click non-stop.
As I approached the exit, I saw a small child, probably no more than three or four, who looked to be alone. I stopped cold.
Within about five seconds three other women also stopped.
We didn't say anything to the kid, or to each other.
Within about thirty seconds a dad on the other side of the turnstile, his attention on a child in stroller, turned back and called to the small child we were watching.
Small child scurried under the turnstile and the family proceeded on their way.
As did the rest of us, not a word spoken.
But that kid had eyes on him. We may not say much, we may not intervene, but we're watching!