back...home?

After a long winter's break, I'm back in NYC for the first time in a month. It's always a weird transition back to the city after I've been away for a while. I always think of New York as a place I live until....something. Until I can't stand living without a car, or washer/dryer, or dish washer, need to own real estate, go broke, finally grow up. I don't really live here. I just live here, until.

Now that I've been here for 3.5 years, 1.5 years longer than I was supposed to, it really does kind of feel like coming home. It doesn't hurt that I had my own little apartment and B Dub to come home to. While I was out and about running errands in my ginormous caterpillar coat, once again re-adjusting to post-car life, I stopped at the farmer's market and bought some hot apple cider.

Hot apple cider, it turns out, is not really a good street accessory for a New Yorker. You can't walk fast (it threatens to splash all over your hand) and you can't get stuff done--banking, grocery shopping--all two-handed activities. So, after a couple of frustrated blocks, I pulled over on the sidewalk and stopped. I just stood there and enjoyed my cider--and realized--I never really stop on the sidewalk...ever. I looked up and down the street and saw how pretty the skyline was against the clouds. I saw a person playing chess on the street. I saw another person selling used books from a card table. In a third-story window overhead someone playing basketball made a basket in an indoor children's gym. Two little girls walked by and said goodbye to each other.

I was struck by how unusual and mundane this place is. I should probably stop on the sidewalk in New York while until lasts.