I love walking on the streets of New York City! It’s my favorite contact and spectator sport. This summer, however, has been a little challenging to enjoy long walks so when the temperature cooled a couple of days ago, I seized the opportunity for a nice, leisurely stroll from the office to the dance studio. As I was walking on Eighth Avenue, I noticed a young father holding his toddler daughter in his arms and pointing up at the sky. A classic, “Look! Up in the sky! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No…” pose. So, I looked up!
Well, it wasn’t Superman!
It was a plane. A tiny little speck of plane, laboring to… what?
I stood on the edge of the sidewalk, scanning the sky for what the father was showing his tiny daughter, and saw the beginnings of a
“What does it mean?” asked the man standing next to me, who’d stopped to see what I was photographing.
It was windy and the letters seemed to dissipate quicker than the little plane could form them. So fast, it almost seemed as if they were clouds…almost.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Looks like a message to me.”
“Yes. But what does it mean?” he insisted.
“I think it’s still being written.” I explained.
“By whom?” he asked, perplexed.
“By the airplane.”
“That tiny one!” I pointed.
He lost interest upon realizing it was a message from above, not Above.
I, however, was fascinated by the little airplane that could, laboring to lay the letters down quickly enough so that the message could be read before the wind dissipated its efforts.
An ephemeral expression of enduring hope!