Even today, I walk on...

It rained all night. I waited in the morning for the rain to stop, but couldn’t wait any longer, so I put on a raincoat and went to Riverside Park. I walked down to 84th Street and entered the riverside path. Under the bridge, someone was curled up and sleeping alone. I stepped carefully so as not to wake him. I walked along the river toward Columbia University. The George Washington Bridge was completely hidden in the fog. Across the river, where many of my friends live, New Jersey floated like an island in the mist. There was no one around. I walked close to the river to avoid the splashing water as cars drove down the potholed road toward downtown along Route 9A.

Twelve ducks are drifting over the water, heading toward the George Washington Bridge. Like me, they seemed to be looking for the bridge that had vanished into the fog. Where had they been hiding during the cold days? Now they were out, moving in an orderly line. In the distance, another group of ducks was heading toward the bridge. I, too, followed them along the river. One duck, however, was alone, drifting in the middle of the river. Did it lose its mate? Or was it enjoying solitude?

My husband and I used to walk in the park together in the mornings. But as he got older, he became busier and no longer had time to walk with me. He takes the 7 train at dawn and gets off at Vernon Blvd–Jackson Av. He crosses the Pulaski Bridge, which connects Queens and Brooklyn, and walks to his studio in Greenpoint. Unless we have somewhere to go together, we walk our own paths. Yet walking alone, like a solitary duck, I don’t feel lonely at all. On the contrary, I feel light and free.

As I watched the lone duck, I first thought, “It must be lonely.” But perhaps it chose to be alone—not to float in formation with the others—but to enjoy freedom.

“If you're close, it’s hard to forget because you can reach out. If you're far, you can't get close, and so eventually you forget.”

My husband and I walk as if practicing how to part, for when the time inevitably comes.