Sprung

As stated I live in Brooklyn... but I live in the Williamsburg portion... which means that I probably should be in either a vegan punk band or living off my trust fund. But I am neither... In the end, however, the area I live in consists of a lot of old Italian families who have owned their homes through the old times when Williamsburg was a little more gritty to new times, where the property value has risen at the cost of many families moving out. It creates an odd dynamic because the young who live here bring money to the area but also create an area that may be a lot louder than what they were used to...

Such conflict is what I observed tonight on the street out in front of my house. Across the way, I witnessed a group of utes, who decided to indulge in a pure sign of Spring, a game of wiffle ball. And while this team of evening all stars rocked shot after shot off of their apartment building, an older woman, who clearly remembered the quieter days of the neighborhood, stood there and watched. I mean she stood there and judged. At first, I hoped that she had remembered a Spring of her youth where she stayed out late. She, however, was having none of it. She wanted the peace and tranquility of her past and not the playful youths she was being terrorized with.

But to me this silent struggle symbolizes the season of Spring because throughout my life, Spring always seemed to fully come into its own when I was out late one night and one of my parents would emerge from the shadows to inform me that although I thought I could simply stay out all night that there were still rules in my life. These rules if broken represented a change from the norm that even if my parents like the old woman, realized they were unable to prevent grasped at their strands to impede their progress...

Spring is defined by conflict. And without conflict, there is no Spring.