Masked Encounters

Outside a kitschy Little Italy bakery 

For 100 days I could not step into the world without slipping my hands into protective latex blue gloves and strapping a paper mask across my mouth and nose, attached uncomfortably around my ears with unforgiving elastic that would leave deep indentations in my skin.

I got used to children staring, gawking and pointing and to their parents awkwardly fumbling with how to handle the situation. Kids seemed to be the only ones who notice their surroundings. Most others either didn’t even notice me or went out of their way to avoid looking at me for fear that I would vex them or because it made them way too uncomfortable. This was the best part about recovering in Manhattan. There is so much stimulation that my little freak show was just a drop in the melting pot. Had I had to walk around like that in my rural Connecticut town where the most exciting things we see are bears knocking over garbage cans and the annual fire truck parade I imagine my experience would have been different.