While I have changed, much about Manhattan has changed as well. Not so long ago crossing the vast concourse of Grand Central Terminal and other major public spaces, you might notice a few police. Now the NYPD with dogs are joined by State Police, soldiers in fatigues with automatic weapons patrolling under the vaulted celestial ceiling.
I am more careful as I walk city streets. My gaze focuses downward, more aware of crevices, holes and protrusions. So many buildings are encased in scaffolding. Heavy machinery shares the sidewalk. Pedestrians beware.
I no longer practice my red light dash. I used to dash across a street flaunting my speed and agility as the walk light blinked ominously. Now I wait my turn to cross. Old habits are hard to break. My muscles twitch with impatience wanting to again flirt with my mortality.
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