6th and B

Spring arrives, at last, at last, you feel it in your bones and dare to lean against its shoulder, dare to take deep breaths like you intend to go on living. The magnolias turn to tidal waves against the grass, pink cherry blossoms crowd against each other to reach their idols, every park is littered with emerging humans, making their way out of a darkness unbelievable in the times Before we knew what a life could be. But those of us who made it out are here, now, it seems impossible. I fill the station wagon and we make our way east. It's not a lot of blocks but the distance is immeasurable. Fifteen years I've been walking these streets now, and still New York finds new ways to show up. 

Fifteen years, New York, and I still blush when you wink at me. 

She asks us all to name one thing to come out of this last year for which we can find gratitude. I think of all the months of fear, months of darkness and thinking that perhaps the demons would at last catch up and overtake me, of how tired we have been, irreparably exhausted. But in the end, New York, all that remained was the knowledge that I'm making it out alive, that every day I get knocked down I get back up again, that the chance to stay here will always keep me clawing my way back out of the storm grate. 

...but when they ask you how you are, you say fine, because there aren't words enough for how good they really are.

You failed at every
single
thing you ever hoped for
and dreamed of
except this
one
thing.

In the end, New York, all that remained was you.