There Followed a Dark and Gloomy Time
But really! We racked up three seders, many subway and taxi rides, much yummy street food, a circus show (not Barnum & Bailey but a lovely gentle European family circus which was just the right speed for someone recovering from a cold), a stop at Central Park, and visits of varying lengths with three different sets of relatives besides my dad & stepmom. The sun didn't shine every day, but it shone enough. I had some wonderful, sustaining conversations about books and life, and MG enjoyed herself mightily.
But beyond that, every time I got off the subway and came up onto Broadway and Somewhere Above 86th Street, I was happy like a kid holding their baby blanket: that's the neighborhood I was born into and lived in for my first five years, and it feels like home the way no place else in the world does. Every time the #7 train rose up from underground and took that swerve around the corner to reveal a shining view of the skyline across the East River, I felt like I could reach across the past few decades and wave to 17-year-old me, riding home of an evening from her summer job before college, and all the versions of me between then and now who have ridden that train and watched for that view. Heck, every time I visited the basement toilet at my dad's house, I got a hit off all the accumulated family history that old row house holds, right down to the Doonesbury and Sylvia and Kliban cartoon books that have been sitting in that exact spot ever since someone--maybe me--left them there sometime back in the '80's.
So the dark time was after I came back. For a few days. It's better now, though, and I remember again why I like it here too.
Remind me to tell you about the Amerikan Grrl store. It was a story in itself.