There were three moments that stuck, that hijacked the ever-present Consumption, that tireless Rat, Work, gnawing at the tubular intestines.  It was Tuesday morning. The train arrived at Grand Central Station. I glance at my watch. It’s 8:26 a.m., plenty of runway for my 9:00 a.m. meeting across town.

Moment One: Mom.

The feet of a throng of commuters shuffle forward a few steps at a time.  We are moving to the doorway, a bottleneck, leading to two flights of stairs (steep) and down to the underground passage, and then up the escalators onto Madison Street.

She was directly to my left pushing a stroller. Her Baby, leaning back, face invisible, is docile. Mom is wearing beige slacks, black flats and a sharp, fitted brown spring coat.  Early 30’s. Moderate build – 5′ 5″ tall. No brief case, no baby-item shoulder bag.

We are 30 feet away. How will she get that stroller down?

The commuters are diverse, it’s late morning, Suits mix with administrative staff, construction workers and students.  But, among the masses, there are no children. And certainly no Mothers pushing babies in strollers.  We shuffle forward.

We’re 20 feet away.

The line slows in front of us. We stop. I’m waiting for her to grab her child, fold up the stroller and prepare for the cautious trek down the stairs. She makes no moves. [Read more…]