"We Can Fly, We Can Fly"

There was a piece of garbage that rolled down the steps of the subway with me.

The red, plastic slip of paper was moving faster than I was… Falling – no, flying past groups of commuters. If you’ve ever visited the city, you may have noticed strange crosswinds that catch your wrappers and your napkins and your hair (or unfortunately your dress) at off-beat moments throughout the day. The gusts come from seemingly nowhere; just air trapped inside the grid of the city trying to escape.

I stepped onto a subway train.

The man across from me was asleep. The woman next to me was reading. Two men stood near the door, discussing a business proposal. And to my left… No. It couldn’t be. But it was. My piece of red trash friend was resting next me, tired of riding the breeze.

I laughed to myself. Small city.

As I exited the underground and stepped into the sun, police cars were lining up everywhere. Something was happening. But not in the chaotic sort of way. You can feel it in the air when something unexpected happens, and this? This was controlled chaos.

“On the sidewalk miss!” a cop yelled at me.

I quickly moved away from the road and tripped over my other foot. Wait, that wasn’t my foot. Ah! My best friend, Red Trash, was attached to my shoe! I blatantly smiled at the piece of paper.

Yes, I
smiled at paper. We seemed to have a connection.

Quicker than I imagined, another blast of wind swept through the city. Red Trash unlatched himself from my shoe and flew up, up, up into the gray sky. He floated happily towards the East River, abandoning me for a carefree trip through town. "What a sense of adventure," I thought wistfully.

Is it odd that I was jealous of Mr. Red Trash?
And missed him a little bit?

I saw the President today. He’s been visiting New York for the United Nations conference. And this afternoon, I popped inside of Google’s headquarters to discuss tablet technology for work.

But for some reason, I felt compelled to tell you about that red piece of paper. I think you would have enjoyed him as much
 as I did. And I think, when he left for his next adventure, you would have missed him just as much too.