I cleaned the old apartment yesterday. I arrived in bright sunshine via the bluestone-sidewalked streets. The natural light in the tiny place made my heart sore.
While the fumes of oven cleaner choked the apartment, I stood on the bare terrace and wolfed a lunchtime pita stuffed with falafel from the Damascus Bakery.
I gave up at 6.30, in the dark. I left everything sparkling. The place is worn after ten years of living, to be sure, but the bathroom, fridge, stove, counter and cupboards are very, very clean.
On the way back to the 2 and 3 subway at Borough Hall, I stopped to buy flowers from outside Key Food - asters, for fall.
And fresh things from Mr Kim's - thin green beans, watercress, mint and cilantro. And mountains of mustard seed from Sahadi's (I have committed pickled mustard left, right and center and my production rate has not kept up with my promises). And lavash.
And then I rode home. Surrounded by my bagsful of memories.