Holy Week in the City

I could hear the clicking of my sandals against the pavement, and I knew I was in the right place.

Everyone wanted to escape the city, and they do so during the Holy Week. But I thought, when else will the city be empty? When else will I be alone on its busy streets? Along stores that were usually open? In underpasses that were always bustling with people?

I enjoyed myself and wandered around the city abandoned by its residents. 

My thoughts drifted to past civilizations and the structures they left behind. Have they given them justice? Will the city give us justice? A hundred, a thousand, a million years from now, what will the dominant species see? Will these buildings paint a clear picture of who we were and what we were striving for?

I take a look at the bottled water I drank in and ponder about its thousand year existence. What about me, what exactly have I done to be remembered for that long? Have I actually done something significant? Will my trash be my only representative in the distant future?

I couldn’t accept this. I think about waste and how it’s applicable with the time I spent hesitating. The city, in its looming edifice, whispers the urgency to pursue my dreams and do what I love.

So I go back home with a clearer head and a challenge for my legacy to exceed the lifespan of a plastic bottle.