EWR

There's a certain light that hits Manhattan at twilight, a deep golden shimmer that doesn't exist anywhere else. It will take your breath away every time. It may be the only reason to ever leave the city at all, come to think of it. 

You walk the same steps as usual, you could walk them in your sleep, from Morton to Penn to the airport to the gate. Everything follows its usual pattern and you breathe deep sighs of relief the whole way. If you could live your life at an airport you think you might. There is no joy in this trip, no excited reunions or eternal summer days. You stare at the glowing ember of a city from the gate and your heart fills with joy at imminent returns. That living here is a gift you keep giving yourself, and each repeated moment of unwrapping its crinkled papers is as sweet as the first. 

We must count our blessings every day. They grow in our hearts even when we forget them, they linger long after sunset has passed. 

They remain, when another morning wakes us.