Thursday, February 26, 2009
Turning the corner on my way to the subway this morning I almost ran straight into a kid eating an ice cream cone. Fine, kids are always distracted, and I know from living near a school in Park Slope that walking through a field of them is like being inside a pinball machine. But wait, an ice cream cone? Yes, it is a delicious treat, but at 8 am? In February? So of course this surreal rejoinder sets off a string of questions that loosen my already fragile grip on the fabric of reality. How, even at the tail end of winter, on a reasonably cold day, does a small child obtain an ice cream cone at this hour of the morning? Who is serving these ice cream cones? Was I seeing a ghost? Is this, truly, the first sign of spring?