A Hard Season Settles In
Then came what Margaret would later call the hardest year of her entire working life.
Her landlord raised the rent on her tiny apartment by a startling amount. Medical bills piled up quickly after surgery on her aching hip, the kind of bills that always seem to arrive in stacks. And worst of all, the city announced new permit rules that threatened to close down several of the older food carts in Manhattan. Margaret’s cart was on the list.
She fought as long as she could. She filled out every form. She attended every meeting. She wrote letters. She made phone calls. But by autumn, she was simply exhausted, and her savings were almost gone.
One cold Thursday evening, she sat alone inside the cart staring down at a stack of overdue notices on the small counter. For the first time in many decades, she allowed herself to truly cry. Not dramatic sobs. Just silent tears of pure exhaustion rolling slowly down her wrinkled cheeks.
“I cannot do this anymore,” she whispered to herself.
Traffic crawled slowly beside the curb. People hurried past without noticing the older woman wiping her eyes behind a fogged-up cart window. The city kept moving, as it always did, with or without her.
