I was angry on Lexington Avenue. Phineas likes to take his morning trot down it from our home on 90th Street because he likes to be in the middle of the action. Against my better judgement, I let him. Yesterday was particularly busy with trucks, horns, angry commuters pre-coffee, and pallets of God-knows-what headed for God-knows-where. Plus it was Monday.
My heart started beating faster just trying to get Phin through the crowds, and then I just stopped (in my mind, not with my feet because on Lexington Avenue if you stop, you’re dead. You’ll get run over, by people.) It was sunny and cool and I realized it was my last Monday in New York. At least for now. I smiled, took a deep breath, and everything felt a little better.
Yes, this place is crazy and it’s often a pain in the ass. But that’s what makes it New York. Nothing’s easy so we’re grateful for everything, at least deep down anyway. On the surface, we keep on truckin’ because that’s the speed of life in New York. What I finally got, after all these years, is that life moves fast when we’re on our feet, but in our minds, we can slow it down. We can acknowledge the magic of this place even while our feet are running just to keep up with the crowd. More than any place else, New York is what it is and what we make of it at the same time, all at once.