Bundled against the cold, we walk along the abandoned canal. A runner passes close by and coughs the plague on me. My scarf wrapped around my face is my protection against unseen invasions and bags of dog poop swinging from branches. As we walk by a large pond, we watch the sparkling water and don’t notice the startled, nervous geese. They rush at us, spreading their bad-ass wingspan, honking warnings to stay away. We back off and almost sprint to get by them. In those few minutes we are young and carefree, laughing at our close call with . . . geese.
When Nilsa Mariano was young, she would sit with friends on the fire escape in Brooklyn, telling stories about sprouting wings and visiting other planets