I'm standing on the corner 77th St. and 3rd Ave. in New York City. It's always busy. It's always noisy. New Yorkers are oddly quieted by the symphony of horns, the subway’s swooshing rattle popping up through the steel grates on the sidewalk, and the whoop whoop whoop of sirens.
They are the sounds of home in the City.
School just let out. I left my apartment to hunt and gather for my dinner. A couple of middle school kids stood beside me at the corner.
Like a rubberized superhero in a movie who, while standing in a static position in the midst of chaos, I was intuitively drawn out of my body and hovered above the fray to feel an ominous coming.
“What’s going on this time?”
The WALK sign flashed in our direction and it was clear to go; yet, it wasn’t!
I landed back in my body just in time to break free from my New York street cocoon and said,” Hey kids, wait!”
My right arms stretched out as if I was in my car protecting my...