Moving Day, the Human Chain

We moved into our new apartment on the fourth floor of a building with no elevator, on the hottest day of June. Two hours in, my husband and I were drenched in sweat, and we had barely moved a third of our boxes.

Then a man from the second floor came out and asked if we needed a hand. Then his teenage sons. Then a woman from across the hall. Then two college students from the third floor.

Within twenty minutes, we had a human chain running down the staircase, passing boxes hand to hand from the truck to our apartment. Someone put on music. Someone brought out a pitcher of lemonade. A little girl on the stoop counted every box out loud.

We finished in an hour. We ordered pizza for everyone and ate it on the front steps. That was a year ago. Those strangers are now our closest friends in the city.