Here, There and Everywhere

Sometimes, all it takes is a familiar face to make what is strange and new seem like home. It has been a whirlwind couple days, and I believe my back is feeling the brunt of it. My posture is decidedly horrendous...so I'm vowing to really do that Yoga DVD that my editor gave me, tomorrow. You can hold me to it.

Friday began at work, but ended abruptly at 11:30 when one of the editors gave me her blessing to leave for the day. I did my work, and it was a half day anyway, so I was thankful and left. I headed to the bank on 5th Avenue to deposit some checks, as well as pick up a quick sandwich (eggplant and prosciutto on pita, yum) before going on a romp through the city. I took to the train up to 53rd and Madison, and walked the extra few blocks to reach the bottom edge of Central Park.

For those of you who have not yet had the privilege of visiting Central Park, it is an experience unparalleled. One moment, you are amongst the hustle and bustle of the city, skyscrapers reflecting the harsh sunlight into your eyes, and the next moment you are sheltered under a thick canopy of green, looking out on a pond filled with ducks and yellow-orange fish the length of your arm. Even just at the edge where I was--it's over two miles long--the noise of the city is hushed, and the only reminder of where you are are the tops of the skyscrapers, peeking weirdly over the trees. It is an odd sensation.

I nestled myself on top of one of the arches of a stone bridge to read. It was unendingly pleasant, but lonely, too. Beautiful things are sometimes sad when you have no one to share them with.

After about half an hour, I started back to find the subway home. I needed to reach Staten Island to visit my cousins Toby and Bret by 5:30, and I knew the trip was pretty involved. I got home around 3 PM, and had to rush about in order to catch the 3:53 shuttle to Bowling Green, so I could pick up the 4:40 ferry to Staten Island.

The best thing about the Staten Island Ferry is that it's free. I highly recommend it. You get a lovely view of the Manhattan skyline, and a lovelier one of the Statue of Liberty. It couldn't have been a more perfect day for it, really, the sky was clear, the water glittering, the air cool. I got to Toby's in pretty good time, considering. We talked for hours, and I ate a morbid amount of Chinese food. It was fantastic.

At some point during the night, I could hear their baby boy Logan crying in his crib, and Toby walking past my door to retrieve him. I had the strangest recollection, suddenly, of being a child myself, and crying in the dark to beckon my Mom to come retrieve me. I would lie there in bed, cry a little, and then listen. I was listening for the distinctive creak that the one stair in their bedroom made that signaled to me that she was coming. If I didn't hear it, I would cry again, a little louder that time. She would always come. I don't really remember why I did this. I think perhaps it was mostly just to know that she was there. I always slept afterwards.

Toby and I talked a lot about old times, maybe that's why these memories surfaced. On the way back home, I stood on the balcony of the ferry and looked down at the water rushing past. A small boat was pulling a barge, and I remembered being with my Dad in my Aunt Sheila's pool. I would hold onto his shoulders, and he would dive underwater and swim across the pool. I loved this. I distinctly remember whining a great deal when he wasn't in the water with me.

I thought to myself then that I would never, ever not be a child. As a professional, and now a wife, I have responsibilities, and I love them dearly. I consider myself fairly mature and reasonable, mostly. But aside from those adult decisions, those considerations of age, I am in my deepest thoughts and heart that same child who wants to know that someone will come to pat me at night and be strong enough to pull me through the deep end and up to the surface again. I am lucky enough to have many people who do this for me. Maybe the only difference from me then and now is that I can begin to do that same thing for others. One day I will answer that nightly call, it will someone's arms around my neck, holding on, trusting me to carry them through.

It has been a long day, and I'm tired and thoughtful. Too much time alone does that to a person. I'm looking forward to having Adam back this Thursday, and to the upcoming visits from friends and family, too! We would love to have you here, with us, in this great city of dreams.