I find her on the roof clutching a thin blanket, shivering slightly, wet auburn hair plastered to the back of her neck. She's staring out over the city, and it's full of all things, but mostly darkness delineated by neon and stars.
"I walked down to the park today, and watched the dogs playing," she says, pulling the blanket closer to her,
"And then I walked up Wicker Park Ave to Damen, and stood under the EL tracks. I watched the pigeons, and the street people. I watched the trains and the cars ebb and flow, the bicycles and skateboards. I watched all their thoughts and dreams go by like smoke. I could pluck them out of the air like feathers, and they were sad and beautiful, delicate and rough. It was too much."
I move to stand with her, put my hand gently on her shoulder, but she pulls away.
"So I flew to the top of the Coyote, and watched the sun set down into a cauldron of fire, pink and crimson and gold. I watched the traffic creep in and out on the expressways, and helicopters flit like gnats above them, looking for the juicy fruit of accidents. I watched a homeless man, the one who always waves half-eaten donuts, get hit by a UPS truck. I watched a young woman run home from work in tears, only to find that her apartment building had moved without leaving a forwarding address. I watched the trees in the park twine and untwine their branches, rocking squirrels to sleep and tenderly embracing birds. Nothing is as it seems. It was too much."
I move towards her again and say, softly, "Amelia, you need to come inside, it's cold out here."
She shakes her head gently and whispers, "Something is going to happen, something is happening, something did happen. I have to be here. I have to see."
I brought her two more thick blankets, some mittens and a scarf. I brought her a mug of hot green tea and honey. She accepted my offerings, and returned to her watching.
Waiting.
Posted by blog/wicker_chronicles
at 12:01 AM CST
Updated: Sunday, 27 February 2005 8:21 PM CST
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Updated: Sunday, 27 February 2005 8:21 PM CST
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