Dream On

Jet lagged eyes spring to life too early, the city lies silent and only in the distance is dawn approaching. The weekend passes in a cloud of tired limbs, preferring to stay in bed and be alone, sinking into my own life again. Social engagements soon call, however, and they are too lovely to ignore. In the bright sunlight, I walk down Houston, Seventh Ave, Bleecker. Falling back into step, walking quickly and finding myself out of breath; have I really been taking it that easy on my vacation? Back on that fire escape in the LES, watching the smoke curl into bone-chilling winter sunset. Back on West 4th, looking at the tracks and seeing all the muck. New York City Garbage, I love you. Running errands on the Upper East, hailing cabs like I was never gone and driving so quickly past streets that I have known and loved, past streets I have yet to discover. The Tassel Shoppe is moving to the Garment District, so everything is $2.99; I have never felt the need for tassels as much as I do now.

After lunch, L asked Well what about you? What about your inner life? And I laughed, told her the truth. There isn't much to say about my inner life of late. I am simply content to be here. I am simply so goddamn happy that this is my life, this is where I am, that I haven't any worries left. After so many years of living in the past, doing my darndest to prepare for the future, I have found a place where I can live only in the Now, where all that matters is what I do Now, and that what I do is what fills my heart with joy. I recognize my privilege. My cup runneth over.

My roommate and I snuck into the bar on 13th for a quick drink, which turned into dinner when no one was looking, and as we talked about Death and Dreams and escaping to Wisconsin, I knew I was home. It was a feeling that spread slowly through my limbs, that mingled with the red wine on my breath and trickled into my flushed cheeks. It took me this long to really land here; it took me going away and risking regretting leaving Gothenburg in the first place. But I am ready now, I commit, I forsake my plan B, C, D. I wear my heart on my sleeve and write it out in ink. I say yes, when asked. In my mind, I see myself standing in the open window of a skyscraper, 50 floors up in the sky, white printer paper flying like fireflies in the breeze, the sun setting over midtown and spreading that golden light across the tall buildings, my hair in a whirl. I jump, but I expect to fly.


I open the valve to my radiator. It hisses menacingly, but soft cotton warmth spreads through my room. This is life, now.