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Thursday, July 26, 2012

Brooklyn Bridge Walk



Sunday, July 22, 2012
“Yay” and applause is what I heard from volunteers as we walked on the Brooklyn Bridge. All of us in red t-shirts, representing an agency that supports youth programs, I joined to show my support. I love to walk too. The last time I walked across the bridge was a few years ago. It was nice to do this again. The weather was great, not too hot and had a cool breeze. There were many tourists, cyclists, and our group adding red to the scenery. I was in the back of the group. I put on my iPod and as the music played, I admired Manhattan’s skyline. I took pictures from my camera phone. I reflected and smiled as the sun beamed down on my head. Six months ago, I didn’t know if I would ever be able to walk again. I didn’t think I would be able to partake in such events. My hip didn’t hurt as I walked, I felt complete. I also thought about the great summer I’ve been having. From attending events to hanging out with friends, I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone. I’m allowing myself to have fun. I’ve laughed more this summer than I did last; I’m grateful for that. When I realized we were crossing over the water, I stopped to take more pictures. 

How beautiful Manhattan looked from the bridge. I’ve always loved the city, I was born there. Although I consider myself a Brooklynite since I grew up in Brooklyn, my birth was in a hospital in Manhattan. Maybe someday I’ll live there; maybe I’ll remain in Brooklyn. Either option is a good one. As we approached the ending of the bridge, I didn’t want to leave. Before I knew it we were in a nearby park where different programs of this agency were there. Between the red and yellow t-shirts, it made the park colorful. I saw former co-workers whom I was happy to see. Some haven’t seen me since the surgery. One in particular was the MC of the event. As we walked by he said into the mic, “And there goes Dara on the trail!” I smiled saying, “You know it!” That made my day. I felt good being there and happier to just walk.

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