of Tonight

I woke up before dawn, the apartment still, the street sleeping. I crossed the avenues at red lights because who was around to stop me. First avenue lay in a haze all the way to the upper east side, crooked high rises toppling over each other, and a careful orange sun rising against the warming bricks. The river was beautiful, the morning's runners in silent agreement to not disturb the peace, even the bums sat quiet. The soles of my feet reintroduced themselves to the asphalt, but there wasn't much needed saying. Such is love.

Later, despite the sweltering heat and oppressive humidity, I walked through the Lower East Side to reacquaint myself with the city, to fill my lungs with its sticky neediness, to remember again how my name sounds on its tongue. I stared at fire escapes, appreciated signs, looked everybody in the eye and tried to remember the secret, why this place could make things right. At Delancey, I made my way east, and without thinking began scaling the endless incline that is the Williamsburg Bridge.

There's an overpass at the middle of the bridge, where you can cross from the pedestrian south side to the bike lane on the north, where you can stand over the subway trains as they rattle the old steel on their way between the boroughs. There was a breeze up there, warm but refreshing, I could feel my lungs expand beyond themselves, everything was lighter. I turned around and looked at the view: to my left, other bridges glittered in the afternoon sunlight, the river park where I run, the Statue of Liberty in the distance, everything so small, like a dollhouse. To my right, the expanse of Manhattan stacked like little LEGO bricks in varied shades of brown and gray, the Empire State Building like an old friend, the Chrysler Building like a wink and a smile. I stared at it for ages, staring and staring like filling my belly with the sight, taking deep breaths to hear the melody of the city course through my blood stream. There it is, how simple. It is not perfect, nor always sweet, it does not dole out simple happiness or paint itself in clean cut colors to appease you. But it is real, it endures, when you fall it remains steadfast, when you feel you may float out to sea it will corral you and bring you back to earth. It will see you at your lowest moments, when you most wish you could look away it will look straight at you and not leave. A year ago I sat on a park bench on the other side of the River and watched Manhattan glitter and laugh; I said I love this town more than I knew I could love anything, and I have learned I could love a lot of things since then but the same still rings true. I walked down the bridge, replenished. I still stare strangers in the eyes, but I'm not looking for an answer.

I'm trying to give it away.