An Unsettled Path

The view was breathtaking. At this height, the world below seemed serene and flowing. The silence of the cars driving by and the blinking taillights visible from the 40th floor corner office made me feel like I could manipulate the people with marionette strings. Looking down at the rapidly moving throng of people going home from work, I felt omnipotent, yet disconnected. It was like watching a play from far away, missing the dialogue, but seeing the action. I sighed and pressed my nose against the floor-to-ceiling window. I stared down at 75 State Street. Steam collected on the thick glass. Absentmindedly, I pressed my hands on the glass making steamy handprints on the window like when I was a child on a cold winter morning waiting to go outside. Far below, I could see a mother and her children dashing for the warmth and comfort of a waiting car. A man stepped out of the driver’s side and kissed the woman, ushering the children in the back seat with one hand and holding the door open with the other hand. I could not tell from this height, but I was sure they were all smiling happily, eager to get home to a warm house and some hot cider in front of a fireplace. At least in dreams and novels, that was what a happy family did on chilly winter nights. My memory drifted back in time to my childhood in Tennessee. So long ago, so far removed from my life today. Where had the time gone? As usual, I began to think of my father and the earliest memory I could muster of my mother.