New York and Other Things
Last weekend, I had a truly magical time in NYC. I spent a few days with a dear friend, delightfully toddling after her cats, chatting over coffee, walking around, and having a fabulous dinner at Joomak NYC. (I am utterly obsessed with the food and the drinks, but the staff is next-level wonderful.)
I love the city. Always have. From the theater to the cafes to the particular bustle, there’s a part of my heart in New York. (Despite the fact that subways still baffle me.)
It’s one of my favorite places to visit. Someone, years ago, who thought he knew me—but only, as some people do, knew the version of me that he wanted to see—remarked that he could really see me living in the city.
Could I do it? Sure. But, like anything else, it would depend on the circumstances. I don’t do anything without a reason. Would it be my first choice? Probably not. Because I’ve been spoiled by the quiet, over the years.
I can chameleon anywhere—I can’t tell you how often people mistake me for being a local, asking for directions. Once, on my first day at college, someone asked me how to get to one hall or another. Maybe I just have an approachable face. Maybe I just seem like I’ve got it together. (I was able to point the woman at the train station toward who to ask for proper directions, so I guess that’s not nothing.)
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the idea of who people see when they look at me. It is really me or the version of me they’ve fashioned in their heads? For those close to me, it’s the former. It struck me, too, that when I really do want someone to know me, I will often just throw myself into chattering or writing long emails or lingering over a coffee or a meal. It can still set me a little off balance, though, because...I don’t often admit to wanting things, I suppose. And when I do want something, I go after it with my whole heart. This also pertains to people.
This past weekend was a balm. Truly. It is a pleasure to be around humans who ease my heart, simply by them being themselves. Easing into a routine, flinging some of the bits via text to those dear to me. Embracing the joy of life, in the moment, because the moment is all we are promised. And yet, making plans.
I love making plans. I love looking ahead and seeing joy on the horizon. Because we need joy now more than ever. And as I look ahead at what is inarguably a rough weekend for me, my heart is brimming with warmth and appreciation. For the joy that was last weekend and for some joys that hope to see come to fruition.
Cheers, darlings.
PS. Your girl has two poems up for the Rhysling award (one short and one long), and I am over the moon. [Kermit flail]