There he was, sitting in his grace on a bench in Seward Park on this hot, humid and smoky summer day. Wildfire smoke has yet again evaded the city, bringing an ominous feeling upon our Thursday afternoon. Combined with clouds of flying bugs streaming down the streets, it really did feel like the apocalypse was upon us. As the sun was setting and the wind blew the smoke right into the heart of New York, it started to become harder and harder to breathe. But this didn’t seem to scare anyone in Chinatown from going on with their business.

As he looked at me from a distance, his entire presence was inviting me to come and sit next to him. I couldn't resist. I slowly walked over and sat on the dirty bench next to the playground. For a long period of time, we just sat next to each other quietly, gazing upon our surroundings, watching a group of men playing volleyball, an elderly man teaching a young apprentice some kind of martial art, children laughing and squeaking on the playground, a group of people playing table tennis… Except, there was a connection. The kind of connection where you’re perfectly aware of the person next to you, you see them as you fill with excitement and intimidation by the increased tension of awareness.

I knew he was watching without turning his eyes to me. I was watching also. I longed to talk to him, but what could possibly be said without destroying this moment of consciousness? As I was already mourning the possibility of getting to know this man, I saw him from the corner of my eyes reaching into his pocket looking for something. And then, he turned to me and said the only thing that was capable of not ruining this perfect encounter:

- Candy?

I looked down to his palms where he was holding a circle shaped, red and white candy I knew I loved, but did not remember the last time I even saw. Speechless, I took one, opened it and popped it into my mouth. It tasted like that sweet memory I couldn't recall.

From this day on, we met every Thursday on that bench, bringing each other candy, watching the Chinatown madness unfold in front of our eyes.

A late fall afternoon, I made my way down to the park with a very special type of caramel in my pocket. Excited to share another part of my long forgotten childhood, I had noticed how cold it’s gotten. It was an especially crisp and gray November afternoon as I sat on the bench waiting for my companion. As each minute passed, I grew more and more anxious. It wasn't without precedent that one of us skipped a week, but this time, it felt different. I waited until the sky turned dark and a thousand lights illuminated the city. With the candy hardened in my pocket, I made my way home, knowing I would never see my friend again.