I took a trip to New York almost three years ago. It was significant because I actually believed I would never get to go. My head was limited, I was sleep deprived with 2 very young kids and things can seem pretty fckn hopeless in those postnatal days. Here is my brief account of that trip, written in spurts over the last few years. Better late than never right?
I pressed myself so firmly on that window, reaching my eyeballs as far around as they would go. To catch a glimpse. My first glimpse of the most famous skyline in the world. The most satisfying glimpse of anything my eyes had ever seen. After 23 hours of cramped quarters, all the New York themed movies I could think of, and a dozen wines, I smiled so largely at the sight.
There is something in my heart that has ached for this city. Since every film I watched set on its streets, since I heard the story of this gloriously big statue, since the cyclists from Staten Island... when I was a small child with a blonde mullet, we lived rural New Zealand. Probably as far from the Big Apple as you could get. One ordinary day, Dad helped some cyclists who'd punctured a tyre, they came to our house, and ended up staying over the night, and they came all the way from New York. I don't recall a great deal about them other than the feeling I had when they spoke about their city, and the package of American goodies they sent us as a thank you once they'd finished their adventures.
Since these things, my heart has ached. And so of course my smile would be large as we landed in JFK. Time away from my husband and kids, as Jade, in New York. The actual fulfilment of dreams meant I never wanted to blink. I didn't want to miss a second of being in a place I didn't think I'd ever get to be...
the break dancing kids.
the cranky lady.
the people with dogs.
the beggar and his child.
the beautiful African American family on their way to Sunday service.
The beaten down man who called out for help with directions, and the man in a fine suit who came from the other end of the carriage and took out his headphones to respond.
the well dressed.
the poorly dressed.
The frills, the sparkles, the drab and the plain. Anything goes on the subway.
The smells of the garbage and the sweaty summer skins. The man with a spider on a string out his brownstoner window, playing tricks on those walking by.
How did Brooklyn get so effortlessly cool?
The Sesame Street trash cans. The vegan coffee banana smoothie with fresh made cold pressed almond milk.
the delicate cakes
the neatly stacked fruit
the place where the entire universe and all its expressions are present, therefore you can't not fit. Everyone fits in New York City.