…a literary journey
My 10 minute writing practice from the photo prompt this week….Post yours!
I was tired. So tired. But my driver didn’t care. Couldn’t afford to care. The riders didn’t care. They really didn’t care. My head hung as I plodded down the too familiar rode, and while I was sure we looked spectacular to a tourist snapping a photo, I was sure none of us in the picture was feeling as good as we looked.
It had been four years since I was brought to New York and attached to carriages, trotting visitors around Central Park. I had left my family back on the warm farm in Tennessee, not given a choice about my future; but I had gotten used to it, the endless circle around the street in front of the Plaza Hotel and ambling down the east side of the Park.
Today was blustering, and while the riders had the crimson blanket covering their laps, and the driver was bundled in his long black coat and top hat, he hadn’t remembered to lay my extra dressings over me this morning, and I was chilled beneath my skin. John was a good driver, he treated me well – letting me rest more than many of the other drivers, and giving me luscious apples to eat every once in a while…so I didn’t blame him for his oversight today. I’d heard him talking to the other drivers and knew his mind was on his young wife and their expecting child – so I suffered in silence and kept walking along, so John could get his much needed tips.
The trees were bare this time of year, and even though there was no snow today, you might be fooled if you were looking at us in a photo. My white skin matched the carriage, and the building facades and chalky sidewalks all lent themselves to what would appear to be a winter wonderland scene.
We passed Charlie’s stand, where he sold surprisingly high numbers of photos – mostly of Audrey Hepburn, Marilyn Monroe and John Lennon. Charlie sometimes walked over to rub the place between my nose and eyes, but not today as he had several people going through his wares. John was talking to the riders, directing them to one of the many points of interest at the entrance of the Park.
Yes, it was cold today and I was tired. But soon, spring would come and the buds would bloom on the trees and the Park would be filled with lovers lying on the grass in shorts instead of walking across the bridges in their winter coats. I thought briefly of the green pastures of Tennessee, but new I belonged to the city, just like John and Charlie.