Sprain

I drive home in the early morning, the Taconic Parkway dreamy in dawn, soft sunrise playing across frosted fields. For the first 50 miles there is only silence. I hug the shoulderless curves and think about life in the country, wonder at simplicity, if this is happiness. 

But then a few hours later, with the day well under way and the cars amassing in the veins, I crest a hill to see Manhattan spread out before me, and I take a breath so deep I didn't know my lungs had been empty all this time. Returning to New York City after a time away is like seeing in color after settling for black and white. It's turning the brightness up on your dimmer lights, it's a buzz in your skin that you never again want to lose. I drove alongside the island, watching it undulate from the Brooklyn shore, and thought only I love you, I love you, I love you, and when they tell me I should perhaps learn to be satisfied, or settle, or build a life of good enough, I will remind them that if a person, place, or thing does not sit like a deep breath in your chest and a smile in your heart, it would be a dishonor to our lives to stay with them. This city taught me what love is, and now I never have to accept any less.

It's not hard to be thankful,
with such gifts in your hand.