I found this story in the middle of my photos on my phone. I vaguely remember writing it while watching a man sitting on a park bench.

Felix sat on a bench right outside an entrance to the park near his home. The day was overcast and cooler than a typical day in August. He reached into his tote bag and pulled out a sandwich along with the New York Times. Despite kids yelling from the nearby playground and cars whizzing past, Felix opened the paper and began reading as if he was sitting in the privacy of his apartment. Once he had scanned the front page, he moved on, skimming the Politics section and then turning to his favorite part of the paper, The Arts portion. The featured cover story was about a little play that made it’s way from the East Village Kraine Theater (max. seating 99 people) all the way to Broadway. It was like the little engine that could and just kept gaining momentum. The Times held the review of the darling little play titled, The Ripple Effect. The play told the story of a young girl who didn’t think her life was very special, but she was kind to people. Her kindness affected people. Some people made decisions as a direct result of a kind encounter with her. Those decisions led to new jobs, ending unhealthy relationships, paying it forward in other ways…and those are only a couple examples of the ripples she caused. And she never knew.
I won’t spoil the ending, but as Felix read on, his eyes began to water. The reviews were tremendous. The play a success and finally the last sentence read: “Playwright Felix Tomson has created his own ripple effect that will continue on for generations.” He did it. Felix dreamed of having a Broadway hit play ever since he was little. He’s 74 years old.
”What a life,” Felix said to himself, on that bench, right outside the park.

Reading this now makes me a little homesick for New York, particularly the energy that’s constantly reverberating in the air. At the same time, it’s another reminder of how writing has been a part of who I am for a long time. I like that. I’m typing this in the middle of the night because I can’t sleep. But now a storm is rolling in and the rain is lulling my eyes downward. I must go. And by the way, thank you for reading all these middles.