Missing Breakfast

There's an early meeting at work and so I've made sure to be on time today. On my way out the building a neighbor waves and says good morning, and a few minutes later I see Ezra F. on Bennett Ave. I'm invited to dinner tonight, to some friends who live on Magaw Place, and I know he's invited as well, but not sure if he knows that I am or that I know that he is.

Up ahead at the corner I can see Adam E. walking with his child and a few seconds later I bump into Henry R. Henry was vice president of the local synagogue when I served on its board of trustees. I like him and have a lot respect for him, and I am also very friendly with some of his children. He waves and says good morning as I pass him by.

On the platform I run into Tova K. and for the second time this week, we ride together on the train. As we sit and start to chat, I notice Emily L. seated further up, at least 15 feet away. One stop later Emily sees me too. She shouts hellos and good mornings and what ups from across the subway car. I shout back and we try to converse this way but it quickly becomes apparent that this is painfully irritating to other passengers.

I return to my chat with Tova and we continue the discussion about relationships from the other day, particularly about lifelong decisions and lifelong regrets. We also talk about the recent crime wave in NJ and a girls camp upstate. She tells me she is visiting her brother this weekend, who lives in a 17th story pad, and then asks about my thumb ring. Is it the same idea as a pinky ring? I balk at the comparison. Thumb rings were essential to archery in ancient and middle times, protecting the archer's thumb from the rebound of the bow. She is surprised I am still wearing it after all this time.

When I get off at 59th, Emily and I find each other and we catch up a bit. She looks tired and tells me it's because her neighbors have been noisy and because the sun light creaks into her room early in the morning. I suggest light-blocking blinds and say goodbye when we reach my stop.

Exiting the station at 47th, I go to Milk and Honey for a bagel with cream cheese and my morning coffee. There's a lot on mind today, and its earlier than usual, which may help explain why I've left the store and am already on 5th Avenue empty handed. I've paid for my breakfast but left it on the counter.