The Constants

I listened to my Ipod on the Subway today.

Battered (cerebrally) and cross-eyed (somewhat literally) I saunter to the Bryant Park Subway platform, still standing, due primarily to the ever-tranquil voice of my Daddy in my ear chatting about contacts for Chris and asking about my day as he breathes somewhat heavily and walks down West Madison Avenue, I imagine (West Madison Avenue, Athens, TN that is). I stroll down Sixth Avenue and pass The Bank of America Tower to my right, Grace Plaza on my left. Taxis screech and honk, trucks pummel by but I hear the stillness of a sleepy-small town, see Riddle and Wallace Drug Store to my right, a bicycle chained to a lamppost, and a courthouse bell-tower to my left.

I plop down on the hard plastic of the burnt 70’s orange Subway seat of the 7 train. 1 stop to Grand Central, walk up the escalator past those who choose to ride and down the stairs to the “Uptown 4,5, and 6” trains just in time to miss the 6. To my right a tall man and his sassy woman bicker in a familiar banter, smiling through their squabble and a Latina woman to my left seems something like a kindred spirit (she has a shy smile and downcast eyes, the white flowers on her sandals match (closely enough) those adorning the collar of her white linen shirt). The train comes and, again, I plop down hard on the plastic (this train features a sea-foam green hue) seat. Exaggerated self-criticism, and underrated self-worth keep company with doubt and anxiety as I rub my temples, clench my teeth.

This moment is my breaking point. I put in my earbuds and turn on my Ipod.

"Distraction #74." The raw cry of the Avett Brothers’ polyphony sails above their simple strings. I haven’t heard this song since when, 2007, perhaps? It resonates a very particular heartstring and I smirk. I refrain from crooning along at the top of my lungs as my lips curl into a smile and it takes all the strength I have not to laugh out loud (not that I would attract much attention from such a display).  4 years is just short of a lifetime in your early twenties. Our goals and interests, fears and joys, our habits, our personas, they certainly do…evolve. I wonder how the 2007 Lauren Brown would react if she knew her 2011 counterpart would be commuting home on the 6 train from her office (cube) on the 32^nd floor of the New York office of the world’s number one ranked human resources consulting firm, for whom she is employed.

Yet, there is a certain unity across time and space.

Smiling at the Avett Brothers I see people leaving the Subway and, naturally, I follow. Stepping over the gap, I realize I’ve exited at 77^th street, two stops early. I shrug and lean against the dirty brick wall. Now, Marvin Gaye sings "Your Precious Love" and I want my momma. I see her though: arms stretched out to ecstasy, eyes bright blue and smiling, head bobbing, feet step-and-touching right, then left.

There are elements that unite us, moments to which we all belong.

Some detours are not obstacles. Sometimes detours provide perspective. The train will always come. I board the next Pelham Park bound local train and finish my commute—still smiling.

I climb the stairs to the SE corner of Lexington and 96^th street, round the corner into a welcome gush of cool air.

I dial my Daddy. He answers.  “Well, it takes you as long to ride the Subway as it does me to walk home. Small world, huh?”