Hereafter

There are social moments I observe in the hood in which I have applied the term, The Butterfly Effect or the Ripple in the Pond Effect.  Moments in which small occurrences result in eventual chaos or negative consequences.

At 6 pm this evening I slowly walk my sweaty body through the NY heat and humidity back to the block.  Just returning from a vicious workout, I’m feeling pretty good.  My thoughts are all over the place as usual; my family and friends, politics, what my drunken a$$ got myself in to this past weekend…hahaha the usual…  

My thoughts break when I observe a late 20’s to early 30’s young woman, not THAT young, take the wrapper of the Twinkie or Ding-Dong she was about to scarf down and casually discard it on the community grounds, as if the world was her garbage can.  She’s ignoring a teenage girl that follows her annoyingly calling out, “Mom, Mom! Mommy!!.”  The mom wobbles her obese body up the ramp of her building as she eats her wrapper-less, high fructose corn syrup treat that she washes down with a 16 oz Pepsi. The teenage girl, no more than 14, is dressed extremely provocatively, in tiny cut off jean shorts and a shirt that exposes her entire core.  Her shirt barely covers her developing upper body; a visual disturbance to the decent person and a delight to the deviant.  The visual and sounds of the moment fade away as I enter the yard.  Four dope-fiends pass me, talking and laughing in raspy voices about what they were gonna’ do and how they were gonna’ do it.  I continue walking forward and witness a woman yelling obscenities at her tiny, stunned toddler from a bench.  On the left of me is a very young brother, counting a knot of money in his hands the size of a Chihuahua.  I enter my building, and wait patiently for the elevator.  As I wait, a young brother shows up at the magnetic door with his two small kids.  The elevator door opens and I get in.  The young brother was struggling with the key and couldn't open the door.  You gotta’ wiggle that thing a bit, it takes practice.  He struggled enough for me to decide to race over and hit the button that releases the door.  He doesn’t Thank Me.  I race back to the elevator before the doors close and hold them open for the brother and his two toddlers. He doesn’t Thank Me.  When the doors open, a few floors before mine, I speak, “Have a good night brother.”