178th Street

I was tired, too tired probably I kept taking the wrong exits and got us lost in New Jersey for a bit and when we'd crossed the George Washington bridge I relaxed too much over being on home soil and we had to take Riverside Drive halfway down the island but it didn't matter in the end. The point was driving 14th street on cobblestone streets in the Meatpacking, across 8th avenue that is my street wherever I need to go and passing Union Square in its sleepy Sunday night calm and feeling that beautiful sense that no matter the delicious giggle of travel, a homecoming is the sweetest miracle there is. I tripped on tired, light feet across Washington Square park and thought I must be the luckiest girl in the world. 

Because the stars in the sky may glitter alluringly where the night is dark, but I needn't long for them. 

I needn't long for anything. 

(Because New York, my darling,

I have you.)