tavie.com

Oh, and: ghosts today. Ghosts everywhere. Walking to the subway, saw an apparition that turned out to be my seventh-grade English teacher, Ms. Kaplan. She used to live in my building but I was sure she'd moved away years ago; I swear I hadn't seen her in at least nine years. But there she was this morning, smilling and sunglassed, with a dignified, "Hello, Octavia", as if we would see each other later in study hall and were not, in fact, ghosts of homeroom past passing each other in long-unexplored hallways. (And do I flatter myself that she remembers me because I was, in fact, teacher's pet? Or does she remember the names and faces of all of her students from 10 years ago?)

The island is full of ghosts to me, you see, because anyone I can still consider friends with from Roosevelt Island moved away years ago. All two of them. Everyone else has been a memory, or a polite nod on the street, since I graduated grade 8. So to have this ghost speak to me, and, furthermore, address me as Octavia, well! It caused me to reflect that I am Octavia to perhaps many more people than I'd thought.

And then, trying a new route to work, I had to pass through that tunnel at 14th street that used to have little alligator statues up against the wall. They were taken down a few years ago, but scuffy outlines remain on the wall-- mere ghosts of their alliagtor selves.

Ooooeeeoooooeeeoooooo....

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:49 AM | shower me with attention