I think I might have written a poem called “fresh light” once, but I love those sounds so am repurposing. There has been light in abundance here—and it still amazes me after past dark Aprils (they say it’s going to snow in the UK today?!).
I walked home under the Manhattan Bridge yesterday into a triangle of light on the sidewalk, and thought how special that was. I was the first person to touch that light as it filled the air and then bounced off the sidewalk onto the wagging puppy nearby. I can’t remember exactly if there was a wagging puppy, but in Dumbo, the chances are high. He was probably wearing a coat, as New Yorkers treat dogs like children, and stifle them. But he was happy to be feeling the sun permeate his fur, as I was for the light to smooth my face. I watched a man push a whole grocery cart full of ice past, and vaguely wondered why it didn’t surprise me.
Today I smelled a grill, and heard birds on Broadway before the city shook itself awake. It is lovely in New York.
Do you want a smile tonight? Here it is: The F train, as often, was jammed this evening. We’re talking angling shoulders and holding your purse between your legs and simultaneously holding your breath. These are the things that make bed bugs viral, but I try not to think of that when I’m close enough to smell that someone forgot their deodorant. But anyway. A little girl, about 4, came on the train with her mom and was wimpering since she had nothing to hold onto. I didn’t even notice, but a kind woman near me offered to switch spots with her. The little girl held onto the pole, with our hands stacked up it. Right above her hand was a hand wearing a black leather glove with short spikes on it. The guy belonging to the hand had a lip ring but nothing too crazy beyond that. I noticed him about the same time tiny girl did, and nearly burst out laughing when she spoke her thooughts right out into the jammed air. She asked loudly to her mom Is he a zombie? I saw the zombie smirk. No, he’s a man her mom said.
I should write a blog about the underground life in this place. But you might not want to read things that make you crinkle your nose.
We have lived in New York exactly 3/4ths of a year today. We started on bare floors with mattresses piled up, and today are home. With humming air filters and comfy rugs, coats on hooks, and fresh bread on the counter.
We are anticipating—what a great gift to be able to—time with family in the sun this weekend. Fresh light. A blessed Easter to you!