This morning on the way to Nanny’s it felt like we were driving right into the sun. Rounding the bends of Bread and Cheese Hollow Road, going up that big hill, the bare trees in the horizon, I squinted to see as the amber light reflected off the fresh dusting of snow…
I was in the City for a doctor’s appointment yesterday. My genius plan of keeping all of my City doctors to schedule writing meetings around hasn’t been working out too well (you: what meetings?), but having excuses to meet your father there after work and go out to dinners and maybe see friends has been quite nicely.
In the back seat of a cab heading down Lexigton Avenue I pressed my nose to the glass to look up at the falling snow. It is magical when it snows in New York City. It just is. Even when you’re frozen hoofing it to the 6 train from York and you’re bundled like an Eskimo.
I saw little dots of flakes swimming in the streelights’ triangular glow.
I saw my old haunts.
That cute little French place.
When you move away, everything from your past life becomes romantic. Bodegas with great hydrangeas. My old subway stop. Wrap -n- Run. Even Bloomingdales.
And then one day you’re stopped at a redlight on 52nd and Lexington and you look into a storefront window and no longer expect to see yourself there.
They say time heels all wounds.
Many wounds, most wounds, I’ll give it that.
Sometimes in life you take these giant steps forward and it takes your heart a little to catch up. It’s so heavy, it carries so much, its easy for it to lag behind…
And then one day it clicks back into place. You find yourself driving uphill in the snow with two children sleeping in the rearview window. And you realize you’re moving forward, only forward, into the rising sun.