The Quiet Times

Tonight I happened to walk through the downtown area that was Pride earlier in the day. It was several hours after everyone had gone. It was dark. The only ones left were the public workspeople and others who were busily cleaning the streets, running the street-sweepers, hoisting the portapotties onto large trucks, and taking down the large stages and equipment. It was eerily quiet, mostly because it's easy to remember that in this same space, within these same streets, just a few short hours before, millions of people were filling the area with noise and laughter and happiness and jealousy and lust and love and hope. Families, friends, lovers, tricks, nameless faces, children, mothers, fathers, and long lost loves enveloped this area so recently.

And now, the quiet cleanup and the sudden realization that tomorrow is coming.

Tonight I happened to walk by the remains of a theater on Polk Street. I never actually saw the theater while it was open, as it had closed its doors for the final time just before I moved into the area. A few weeks ago construction workers began to demolish the old building with a wrecking ball and some bulldozers. I had the opportunity to stand along the street once and witness the wrecking ball swinging into action. It was as if all the onlookers were kids again wanting to be the one hoisting the wrecking ball high in the air so it could come crashing down onto the tattered building and smash it to pieces some more. Weeks later, they're still in destruction mode. Tonight, late at night, when all was quiet, I peered through the wire fence and began to recognize sections of what was a theater. Some of the balcony was still there, albeit totalled. I thought of all the crowds of moviegoers from days past who would sit up there and laugh and cry and hold hands and tremble and scream and hope. Families, friends, lovers, tricks, nameless faces, children, mothers, father, and many loves packed this place in the years past.

And now, the quiet destruction and the sudden realization that tomorrow is coming.

The quiet times evade our consciousness mostly. But subconsciously, do we consider them? And if and when we do, how do we feel about the tomorrow that is coming?