The Air Tonight

Mile Marker 13,133:  

Hello from Love Park, where the air is buzzing, bracing, and bittersweet.

I'm heading to the bus stop on my way home from work.  

It's not a great leg day.  I would have driven back and forth, but I was worried about tonight. I imagined road closures, protests, and chaos in the city.  I didn't want to be stuck in traffic.

But as I walk, I see there's none of that.  

It's an ordinary evening, yet also extraordinary, because tomorrow is Election Day.  And no one knows what's to come.

I wander among the murals here,

absorbing their messages, admiring their art,

feeling their energy.

People smile.  I smile back. 

A boy with gold curls runs under the spray of the fountain.

Two students play pingpong, backbacks dropped at their feet. 

Excitement and cameraderie hang in the air.

I join a dozen others who've gathered around the portal.  

It's a new addition to Philly -- an international camera set smackdab in the center of the city, a living sculpture that connects us digitally, in real time, with three other cities around the world.  

It's kind of miraculous.

We're waving to people in Lublin, Poland, where it's 10 PM.  A man and woman wave back at us.  Hold up peace signs.  Twirl each other in dance.  

We wave back -- well, Philly style :)

The calm feels temporary though, like we're standing on a precipice. 

It reminds me of the earthquake in 2011, my first day back to work after the accident, when we joined together in uncertainty.  Or those first few days of COVID, when we realized how fragile our connections are.  

I'm glad to be here now because... who knows what will happen tomorrow?  

My prosthesis is beginning to poke, so I make my way toward 15th & Market to catch the bus.

As I pass the LOVE statue, I see two young men taking photos of each other.  I offer to take one of them together. 

They pose, arms over shoulders, with the Parkway spread behind them.  It's the iconic Philly shot.

"It's my first time in Philadelphia," one of them tells me as I hand the phone back.  His name is Naman, and he's from India.  His cousin, who's lived here for 20 years, is showing him around.

Naman asks if he can get a picture with me. 

"With me?" I say.  It makes me laugh.  But it also feels natural, like -- of course -- why shouldn't we be friends on this ordinary, extraordinary afternoon?

I wish him happy and safe travels!

When I finally reach the bus stop, the 33 bus is just pulling away.  (This, too, is typical of Philly.)

So I stand there a while longer, feeling the pinch of my prosthesis.  Taking it all in.  

Leaves rustle.

Lights change.

Pigeons fly.

Motors hum. 

People of all shapes, sizes, and colors walk, jog, scoot, bike, and roll through the crosswalks.  

I want to freeze this moment, bottle up this connection and community, hold tightly to this joy of "not knowing" what's to come.

I want to stand here forever, breathing in this air full of hope. 

 

Walk on,

Rebecca

*This postcard is for my friend Jodie, who cheered me on always, and devoted her entire career to bringing our city together.  Jodie, you would have loved the air tonight.  I'll miss you and so will Philly. xoxo