Photo by Paul Lowry

I stared at them dressing each other with tutus and flower headbands, giggling, unaware and being in the moment. “I’ll be right back girls. I love you sweetie.” I signaled to my friend Michelle to come to the door out of their earshot. “What else should I get? I mean can I get you anything?” My gut felt sour and sick. “No, no, just get what you need, Pete will go out in a while.” My mind chattered direct orders – stop at the bank, get cash and then to the Food Co-op. “I’m getting ready to go to war,” Michelle’s husband Pete bragged on as I was leaving. “Mich” he said, “I might have to go to the site tonight, I’m sure they could use me. My buddies at Local 361 will be there, I know they will.” War I thought to myself? My body felt shaky and all I wanted to do was lay down on the ground. I gazed at people while I passed cafes and coffee shops, stunned that they could eat. I watched the burnt paper float around as I made my way down Seventh Avenue. It reminded me of a dreamlike performance I once saw where a clown ripped up a letter and tossed it in the air while hundreds of tiny pieces of paper began to delicately fall on him like snow. I can’t believe this is happening. I grabbed cash from the bank machine and turned down Union Street. People surrounded the firehouse located next to the co-op. Women and men walked tiredly towards Grand Army Plaza, clothed in suits, suits that should have been seated at desks. I made my way into the store half heartedly ready to gather food. I tried to wrap my head around what my three year old needs. Milk, bread and cheese. Fruit. Cheddar Bunnies, Veggie Booty. And water. More water. I stood dazed in the long line. How is the woman in front of me complaining about standing in line? I began making my way back home. The horrid smell of smoke infused the air. I studied people’s faces. Noticed some embracing each other. Overheard bits and pieces of information. Bridges are closed, phones are not working. Together on this island, we are not going anywhere.
 

Kim Soles is a photographer, writer and designer. Her designs sell throughout the US and most recently has had some of her writing published in the 6S Volume 3. She resides in Philadelphia with her twelve year old daughter and visits their previous Brooklyn neighborhood as often as possible.