Man on Wave
The absurd necessity of surfing through everything else.
On August 7th 1974, a Frenchman named Philippe Petit stepped out on a wire illegally drawn between New York’s twin towers — the tallest buildings in the world at the time. After nearly an hour dancing on the wire, Philippe was arrested, taken for psychological evaluation, and brought to jail.
A Wednesday in November. Today. Me, a grown man in my forties wedged in a week that I never saw coming. All the usual. But much more. Daughter needs to see the doctor before school. School needs forms. Deadlines approaching. Holidays approaching! Due dates. Taxes. Fees. An unmade bed. An empty egg carton. And the unspeakable shadow of unforeseen tragedy. The mechanism of adult life fully operational. My uncertainty around how to truthfully answer when someone kindly asks: “How are you?” as I drop my daughter off for school. The guilt that comes when I lie and say, “Good.” Life’s a tight rope.
