Love/Hate

That's my relationship with New York.

Just when I think I can't stand another minute of midtown at rush hour, teeming with dawdling tourists and pushy suits who glare at anyone who dare cross their paths. Or when I might cause physical harm to the 20 year old girls filling their aisle-blocking carts with the organic food I'm not sure how they can afford at Whole Foods. Or when I shudder at the thought of walking through another cloud of stinky sewer steam rising from the street. Or when every truck in Manhattan happens to be honking and revving their engines on the very street I'm attempting to walk down. Or when I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, drop my bags of groceries, and call Eric to come help me because I simply cannot bear the thought of carrying those heavy bags another block (true story. Drama queen much?)...

Just when I wonder how it's possible to live here at all, New York does its thing:

It reminds me that the light is changing in the city, to something so beautiful, when everything is bathed in the amber glow of fall, gently taking over the sultry summer haze. And then it shows me that a Tasti DeLite is opening up around the corner from my office (!). And then it brings me to Riverside Park at sunset and yoga class when the city is just waking up, and everything around me, even if only for a few moments seens calm and clear and simple.

And then suddenly, New York feels good again.