Sitting on the Brooklyn Bridge watching the sunrise; often I do this when I cannot sleep. I long to be near the water at any chance I get and somehow I feel more secluded sitting up here away from the millions that inhabit this chaos-filled city. Maybe it’s just easier to be alone here, yet doesn’t feel so lonely. I guess this city is like that. You can walk around and live within the stories of strangers lives.
My attention is drawn to a young foreign couple…
just steps away from were I sit, shouting out encouraging words to those walking and running by. “You’re a beautiful woman! Amazing body! Keep on running! Great job! Fun, young and fit!” At first it takes me a bit off guard; this doesn’t happen very often, as crazy as things do get. This goes on for the next fifteen minutes or so. I am staring off into the sky, continuing to jot things down in the notebook in front of me. Eventually they approach me. The man asks if I am a writer and at first I am not sure how to answer. “Yes. Most days”, I reply. “Do you always write or only when you have something to say?” The question made so much sense to me. “When I have something to say,” I answered. “Well, I can tell you must be creative. Anyone sitting here on the bridge with this this view at this time of morning must have true inspiration inside of them.” Despite his somewhat thick accent, I understood every word clearly. I wondered how this man, this stranger, could read me so well in an instant. “You know we will never see each other again. Tell me our story. What is it? Just write it down for us and we’ll wait here.”
Inspired, I wrote out their story, spanning a short paragraph. I tore off the page and handed it to them. They then invited me to breakfast. “Do you come here in troubled times? Would you care to join us for breakfast?” I graciously declined but my soul was touched. Even now I cannot fully explain what this interaction meant to me but there’s a chance that it helped serve as a reminder that someone is always there to listen no matter where you may be, even a stranger. We could all use some encouragement and open arms. I wish the world was better and we could all learn how to be more open, honest and kind.
I guess that’s why I’ll always be a dreamer. I designate the way I see things. I predestine the ending. In my mind, everyone lives happily ever after. And that’s my story just the way I fancy it.