Hell of a commute this rainy morning: people bugging because of the weather, subway platform in Brooklyn is stacked with hipsters, and the L train that pulls up, stuffed as usual. I squeeze in and find myself up and close with all these strangers and I can’t remember the last time I plucked my chin hairs. I resist taking out my cell and instead take a look around and have the horrible thought that this is the perfect target for a fucking terrorist to come blow himself up in the name of Allah—packed morning rush-hour train heading into the tunnel underneath the East River. I catch myself before panic gets a hold; this is not the last thought I want on my mind if the worst happens. I resist, changing my thought course, think of my family and begin to say I love Joe, I love Akela, I love Lucca, I love myself. I look around again and send out loving vibes to all. This is how I want to go when the time comes, not with fear but with loving thoughts. An epiphany on the L train. That’s how I reach my destination and then deal with the pissed off people trying to climb up out of the subway behind overweight ladies who are laboring to get themselves, and sometimes a suitcase, up those dammed stairs, and others trying to get down to make that train, huffing and puffing, and losing their patience because they can’t get through, and spraying everyone by accident on purpose as they close their wet umbrellas. But I insist on sending out love as I climb out of the subway relieved to see the rain.
I'm a writer, yoga instructor, and former NYC public school English teacher. Also, I am one of the 2016 NYC Center for Fiction Emerging Writers Fellows. My favorite books are Jane Eyre and One Hundred Years of Solitude.
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