Return on the BQE in the early afternoon, a hazy skyline draping itself across the distance, Delancey street forever a traffic jam, I turn down 6th street and find a parking spot just steps from the front door. New York is benevolent when it wants to be. On the fourth floor, the tops of the honey locust leaves have yellowed in my absence, but the avocado on my windowsill sprouts a new branch. Tropical fruits guaranteed before the end of the decade. A change in season promised by the end of the week.
I refresh the fall foliage map on my browser. This is me embracing change. This is me with a growth mindset.
Do you know, I had the strangest thought today, in the little shoebox apartment just off Tompkins Square Park, the feeling of fall coming in the window, the piles of to do lists tumbling pleasantly around my feet, a novel manuscript warm in my hands. I thought, for just a moment, that I was happy, and that I might look forward to things to come.
When you have been crawling so long on the burning coals, with only the goal to keep breathing,
hope seems an awful lot like an oasis in the desert.
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