new to me
I write my own story about how the rug came to be rolled up and slung over the ironwork of one of the fancy brownstones on [looks down…
I write my own story about how the rug came to be rolled up and slung over the ironwork of one of the fancy brownstones on [looks down towards Clinton to see what street she’s actually on] Kane Street. It’s nice. Not ABC Carpet and Home nice, but maybe close to it? Grey wool. Not too heavy to carry. Through the windows I can make out the shape of a toddler inside, playing on the first floor of his three-story wonderland. The sound of their music seeps out and into me, in my vision, a flash of a record removed from a player. I shrug, pick up the rug, carry it on my shoulder to my folks’ place and straight through to the back. I unroll it slowly until it’s flat on the wooden deck. No stains, no strange colors, just a nice, grey wool rug. I check the weather [sun for two days] and leave it there to hopefully be cured of whatever about it ailed its previous owners.
Today, I returned to it, half-expecting it to have flown off. It was still there.
School news alert on my phone. Infuriating. Certain parents make a fuss and now, like magic, NYC public schools are starting back in-person five days a week. This year is a trick. This mayor is a joke. Purposeful deceit or general recklessness, it matters not. He bends to the will of the parents who scream the loudest. Nice White Parents. What manipulation. What a joke to make the deadline a week ago, only now having the size of class that could potentially make it possible for these students to attend for five days per week. And all of those remote kids still without the technology to learn remotely, without the access they need. The kids whose parents keep them home because their families had been touched by death, up-close and in-person, and decided to go remote, chose to play it safe, even though it’s impossible. No concern for making remote learning equitable, very little support for kids with Individualized Education Plans, heads turned from kids and families experiencing housing insecurity or homelessness. I am so angry.
I shake the rug outside, masked and eyes squinting as the dirt flies around me. Particles of other people’s skin, the dust of their home swirls around me like a tornado. I shake, shake, vacuum, shake, thinking: maybe they just couldn’t be bothered to clean it so they threw it away.
What are these tragedies if not chances to look hard at what wasn’t working before and dream up new ways to make it something that works for all people? Wasted opportunities over and over again, rolled up and put outside, boxed up and put in the basement.
The rug looks great in here — cozy and comfortable to sit on which is good because we put our couch outside and are still waiting for one to materialize. I will keep walking my streets patiently until I find it.