Sulmona Meats, Boston

The rain poured down in winter cold Boston The evening slipping into night. I walked through the North End, the uneven cobblestone making footing unsure.

People were dashing home holding newspapers and umbrellas over their heads, clutching coats. Maybe wondering about the next paycheck. I passed Sulmona Meats on Parmenter, it had been there for ever. The showroom was closed and dark. The Street not much bigger than a crooked alley. 

Dark cold stone building surrounded me. In the room next-door to the showroom, a light was on. There the owner stood over a bench creating the cut meats for the next day. He had done the same-thing for years, day after day. 

You could tell it was his life and art. He never looked up from his craft, neatly piling the slices in front of him. Proud of what he did and his place in life....

David Young