on the fourth flour of this building in a corner of new york city is a little chair with a little window in a small kitchen. the little chair is always occupied as we sit and watch people pass by.
and this little window holds dear more laughs, tears and stories of long ago than any other place in this home. it's tradition to sit here and talk, drink coffee, laugh and rejoice.
when i visit, i enjoy sitting in this chair while the aroma of my sister's cooking engrosses me and her children caress me and my mother spoils me. all while i sit and look out and ponder about the souls that I see from above, bundled together, trying to hold their own warmth in the cold. others just stand around and laugh, do things i rather not watch, blast music in their cars and seem to have a good time. or what they may deem as a good time. such is new york. loud, mad, gloomy, cold and full of people's good or bad. this little corner that i can spy from above has seen it all, or at least i am told.
and yet, with all it's good or all it's bad people young and old, continue to walk and pass by... seeming like they are conformed to this as all they have and maybe even hopeful for the future to surprise them with more than this life. it almost breaks my heart to see this happening here. no hope, no money, drugs and alcohol... people are just wasting away in this little corner. i wonder if anyone cares enough...
the church across the street embraces this place, feeds, prays and cares for them all... they believe in what may come.
seeing the good in the midst of what may be the worse, gives me hope. all is not evil in the world and there are people who care and who love. that is what makes this little corner, from this little kitchen whole.
today i'm headed south for home [for some reason this post is late so, i'm already home.] i will miss the little window, this little kitchen and all the people on the inside and the outside of the glass. im not sure i'll miss this part of new york or the way it takes its told on the people that occupy it.