Public Transit Means...You Are in Public

I was running late again. And it was snowing—lightly, but enough to make the bricks on the walkway outside Davis Square station slick and treacherous. So, despite not being as early as I had hoped, I walked slowly. I’m at that age where falling on brick might very well break a bone—not an expected break, I’m not that old. But the kind of a break—like a wrist or an elbow—that can make a person sit up and realize that time is passing, the body is not as resilient as it once was, that all that extra padding on hips and backside is in fact a disguise for the skeleton that withers within.