Hey y’all. Katherine posting on behalf of our Writer of the Week Katie!
It’s such a treat to have Katie contributing to the blog and we are so excited to share her article with you today. Also, don’t forget to check out her interview! One of our faves :)
My mom and I turned off of Atlantic onto Flatbush Ave, spirits still soaring from our time at The Postal Service concert. The weather was begging us to take a walk about the night, so we answered the call and decided to part with Brooklyn via the Brooklyn Bridge. A light breeze picked up just the ends of our hair and I was perfectly comfortable in my dress and jean jacket. We trekked northwest on a busy street—my mom kept commenting that there were too many buses for her liking and that we should walk alongside a more pleasant looking area. Each time I answered her by singing “Such Great Heights” and dancing goofily to the tune. Every building interested us and we took turns guessing what people were doing in the big factory windows or musing the architectural design of apartments.
Our feet carried us down a path that was split into pedestrian and bicycle territories. I constantly found myself on the wrong side, of which the speeding cyclists were quick to point out to me, sounding both irritated and amused. Each time, I jerked my body, hopped, stepped, and spun back to my designated walking confines. Each time, I wondered where they were going and if they might later recall me as that girl who wouldn’t get out of their way as they rode into the night. On either side of the walkway were two lanes of cars going in opposite directions. Their blinding headlights melded into a blurry yellow glow and I remember feeling part of an elite club that was crossing the bridge by foot. Ahead of me were the cascading dotted lights of the bridge cables set against a backdrop of city life. They got closer and closer until finally under my feet were wooden planks and under those, the ocean.
I walked to an area where I could lean against a railing and breathe in everything around me. The Freedom Tower shone and a small boat floated lazily in the distance. A half moon sat atop another tall building. I reached out my arm and pretended to take it out of the sky with the pinch of my thumb and pointer. Everything is going to be all right, I thought to myself. I started to push off the railing and turn away when I was overcome with a giddy inspiration to do one more thing. I gazed out and whispered, “Good night, moon.” As I walked away, I watched her duck and flicker behind a skyscraper as if to say, “Good night, old friend.”