Squirrel!

I sit down and reach for the egg sandwich I have just bought from the corner deli. The sandwich, still hot off the press, scalds my hand. The morning sun pierces the canopy above and drizzles pockets of light throughout the shade I sit under.

Forced to postpone breakfast by my currently too-hot-to-eat sandwich, I decided to people-watch. A man walks by and pauses when he sees an upright squirrel looking right at him. I swat a mosquito off my arm. They lock eyes and the man eventually relents and gives the squirrel a part of his brownie. I’m unsure if that is what the squirrel really wanted. However, I am not surprised by the result of the silent showdown. It wouldn’t be a true human interaction if the man didn’t imbue some sense of meaning into what was likely an insignificant moment of eye contact between two different animals. Or not. Maybe I’m just being a cynic. Nevertheless, the one-sided dialogue between the man and squirrel progresses.

The hum of the city continues. An agglomeration of mechanic noises, human chatter, chirping birds, and other indiscernible sounds create the siren of the city. The cacophony of competing sounds cancel each other out creating what can best be described as a muted choir. I think of the greek sirens that attract wayward sailors to their death through their enchanting voices. Perhaps it is this urban siren that makes all fall so deeply for a place like a city. The never-ending concert of the concrete jungle. 

Perhaps the man and the squirrel are symbolic of what it is to live in a city. Just as he imbues meaning into his interaction with the small feral creature, we collectively imbue meaning into our surrounding hodgepodge of concrete and flesh, which in turn will give the city the power to imbue meaning into each of us on an individual level. He is a New Yorker. She is a Parisian. They are Bostonians. 

A man with a strange tattoo walks by and my internal monologue comes to a halt. I reach for my sandwich and breakfast is now served. Happy Sunday, folks.