The Lady in My Life

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Upper New York Bay — a.k.a. New York Harbor — is considered by many to be the best natural Harbor in the world.

It can also be among the most beautiful, as was the case today. The water was gunmetal, and the breeze was teasing up whitecaps. A container ship, massive, like a thirty-story building in recline, eased gracefully west, aiming toward the New Jersey docks, where the many-colored trailers would be lifted off and sent to depots around the country, and new ones seated on the vessel for a journey to who-knew-where.

Taking it all in was Miguel Torres, sitting on a bench in North Shore Waterfront Esplanade Park, the northern tip of Staten Island. He was eating his lunch, which he had made himself. It was a tuna-salad sandwich, dressed with cheese and pickles. The bread was homemade white.

Baking was a hobby of his (he could not make a casserole or cook a roast, but flour and yeast were ever at his command). He was drinking hot chocolate from a cup that he had unscrewed from a lengthy green thermos.

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