The grass is itchy against my elbows. I'm finding it hard to get comfortable.
Every few moments, a new customer approaches Consuela's Taco Stand, and she bashfully flirts with them before handing over their order.
The day is hot, and so, like everyone else in the park I am taking cover in the shade of a tree. To my right is a group of men and women with full bellies who have passed out after drinking one too many beers. Every once in a while a dog approaches them, sniffs, and walks away. Sometimes they swat in their sleep when they sense a wet nose and are slightly wakened by the dangle of dog tags, but for the most part they are completely passed out. I start to wonder how they got here, what their journey has been like up until now, and if they'll ever have enough faith in mankind to embrace their destiny with sober ambition.
For now, they sleep soundly, temporarily salvaged from the brokenness of their reality.
A moment or two passes and I readjust my weight by shifting one of my elbows closer to my ribs. It's easier this way.
Consuela begrudgingly gives away food to the Homeless as they approach. I think part of me is waiting to see if she will begin to do it with an open heart.
As with all times before, each time she hands over a hot dog to someone less fortunate, two or three more paying customers approach. I think it's a little sad that she chooses to smile at the money she receives rather than the result of her good deeds, but I guess she is still learning.
Behind Consuela sit the twins. One has her knees drawn to her chest as she patiently waits out the mad angry rambles of her sister who paces in front of her -- sometimes yelling at no one, and sometimes muttering under her breath. I'm fascinated by these twins -- drawn to them really. For the past few days I've been coming to the parkette to monitor Consuela, and clear my head. I'm about to create something new -- and rather than sit silently staring at a wall waiting for inspiration to channel its way into my heart and through my fingertips, I choose to sit here -- watching. Observing. Experiencing.
Eventually the rants are directed towards the twin that is sitting. The anger causes the standing twin to shake, bark, and scream at her sister. From across the park I am scared...and curious. I watch in fascination to see how her sister responds. I imagine she's had to deal with this thousands of times over the course of their lifetime. I wonder if they ever had boyfriends, jobs, a chance at a real life -- or happiness.
As the screaming escalates, the sleepers to my right fidget but do not wake. Consuela glares at me as if to say 'I told you so,'.
The screaming continues unaltered for what feels like hours, but is probably only seconds. Eventually the twin that is sitting stands. I wait to see what she does; trying desperately not to blink in case I should miss the slightest non-verbal gesture.
The quiet twin begins to sway. Slowly at first, then with more gusto. She sways back and forth ignoring the screams that are directed at her and immersing herself into her own world. As she sways to the music in her head, I notice that her sister begins to lessen the intensity of her screams -- and eventually, like the rocking of a baby, her manner too becomes calm. The dancing twin doesn't stop, but simply outstretches her arms and begins to twirl. As she twirls I notice that she is ever so slightly flapping her hands. With each twirl she sucks up all the negative energy and sends it back down into the depths of hell where it belongs. Every rotation creates a newer, fresher, breeze that washes a wave of calm across the park.
As the calm permeates across the grass, we are all lulled back into the soft slumber of the hot afternoon. Cares are erased. Calm is now our oxygen. And as I wait for the twin to stop twirling, my lids become heavy and I too drift off to sleep.
