Packages and pigeons

Starting to write again reminds me there is so much to share that I haven’t yet processed---that time will come. But today, my blog is fresh, and feels like it’s caught up with life. My About page doesn’t say we live in Scotland, so I’m opening the door to see what’s here today. Because, we're in Brooklyn, and reminiscing about Europe is getting old, right?

You thought I’d never say this, but know what I love about New York? Opening my door to find packages in the hallway with my name on them. We almost never got packages at our last flat thanks to its location on the backside of a larger building. Walker would literally walk the streets looking to wave down the delivery truck. Suffice it, we rarely mail-ordered. But here? There is no other solution to carrying toilet paper through the city than, which brings 18 wheelers in with easy. The great thing about city life is that this happens often—--packages outside my door, and even more right in my path all day with joy inside. Here are some I’ve collected lately, instants worth savouring:

In my least favorite station---a dark tunnel with one track---a man plays acoustic Hallelujah. I walk past slowly to stay near the music, loveliness even here. I’m sure even the pollution loosened.

We sit holding hands in the small restaurant with plates of peppercorn sauce and omelette and creme caramel, and talk of Europe. The relief of thinking outside New York is suspended right in the air above the table, wings I’ve missed.

I can walk confidently onto the platform and know where to stand, and where to find the oranges in the grocery store, and when to jaywalk. I thought I would never match this pace, but here I am.

There is a living film outside my window every night---lit boats and cars streaming in ribbons of color. New York really is like that. The beauty is not the slope of hill or field color or birdsong, but the movement, the gifts all the more unexpected, bobbing out of the fast river.

Thank you much for sticking with me in the Great Transition of 2011. I'm excited to write again, and excited to share a city I am already a bit nostalgic over. I'm still attempting to walk straight in my path without circumventing pigeons, but the hesitation is weakening. Home is settling.