My taxi ride last night was enlightening . . . as they should be. I sat in the back, the window rolled all the way down, taking in how amazing this city is, and I realized how good I have it.
I just spent a weekend in Virginia. I spent time with my Mum, I spent time with my lovely friend Farrah and her cute-as-can-be tot, I saw my tall-as-can-be sister. I love Virginia. I love the people I have there. It smells good there. It smells like growing up.
I’m always struck by how much I love this city, too. I see the skyline from the train and I’m still amazed that this is home. I’m honored by it. I love that I’ve found such comfort here. I've found important people here. I've found my (space) self here.
There are things I want. There are things I wish I had. There are financial messes I need to get out of. There are shopping habits I need to get counseling for (major counseling). There’s that new job I need to find. There are 10 pounds I’d love to lose . . . but then there’s my family. And my friends. And my health. And the warm weather. And new people to meet . . .
Pessimism Shmessimism.
Good God, I sound like a fruitcake.
3 comments:
Did someone say fruity cake?? Where?? Gimmegimmegimme!!!
That's funny, because New York, to me, smells like urine. And oddly that reminds me of growing up.
There really isn't anything like a urine-soaked memory, is there?
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