Memories… and differences

Random memory while opening a can of tuna for dinner (I just did not feel like cooking):

During the blackout of 2003, I walked from my office on Wall Street, over the Brooklyn Bridge (don’t think you can see me in this picture), through Brooklyn, along Flatbush Avenue past the zoo (where a couple of volunteers had a hose out through the gates to the sidewalk, refilling water bottles for those of us walking by), and along Ocean Avenue. It took just over five hours. I got to the apartment building about an hour after sunset, just after full dark.

Walked up to the third floor apartment, I took a shower in the dark, and then went into the kitchen. I opened a can of tuna, and ate it straight from the can, standing in the kitchen.

Then it was a long night of trying to make contact with the family (fortunately, we had a rotary phone plugged directly into a wall jack—in this era of all digital, internet-based telephony, I doubt there would have been any contact), trying to figure out what happened, sleeping with the windows open, and then spending a fairly lazy day (until the power came back).

Tonight’s can of tuna was significantly different. I paired it with the left-over vegetables from last night, microwaved, and followed it up with a piece of the pie I made yesterday (after a day in the refrigerator, the formerly crumbly crust has stiffened up a bit to flaky, which is good). And now I’m sitting here comfortably with the lights on. Though once again, I’m here alone.

Ah, differences… and memories.

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