[i LIVE here]
an ode to the misery turned magic of my Sunday commute home
One train passes through the station without stopping Then another The platform, filling with more and more waiting riders, grows restless “Why aren’t they stopping for us?” a little kid pointedly asks their parent “That’s a great question,” their parent replies, exchanging an exasperated glance with an older gentleman who’s already been vocal in his dismay. Feeling the frustration and anxiety of those around me beginning to mount then taking into account: 1. My distrust of the MTA on a Saturday of a holiday weekend 2. Not wanting to waste another 20 minutes waiting for a train that will never come And 3. Knowing I’ll have to transfer trains at some point anyway, I decide- Fuck it. I’m walking to my transfer stop. I turn around to make my way above ground Lock eyes with a tired eyed young woman sitting on the steps It never ends, here grey blue eyes seems to say no kidding, I silently agree then push through the turnstile and promptly hear, “6 train arriving in 2 minutes. Please step away from the platform edge” Too late, you’ve committed to the bit, I say to myself as I emerge into the bright white of the afternoon sun I wish, not for the first time today, that I were on a beach somewhere having fun instead Wafts of street food fill my nostrils the concrete soaks up the heat in place of sand A bass line bumps on a shitty crackling speaker rather than the soothing sound of waves crashing to the land White tents, in lieu of colorful beach umbrellas, line the shut down street The Chrysler building oversees then, I see the way the bright blue sky radiates and for a moment I feel like I straddle all of the forevers behind, within, ahead of me I am at once:
nine years old in a small town in the mountains of Spain Visiting Amama Cotton candy and garlic aromas intermingle with the sounds of a street carnival The feast day of some Saint or other who is the town’s namesake, is celebrated with a carnival in the streets That’s what they say at least, though one of these carnivals seems to pop up every other day Here in the Basque country, at least Here, now, Post teaching Soul Fed up with the MTA Making my way downtown through a street carnival in this sweaty New York City heat, Realizing that for the first time in forever, without the hustle of somewhere to be, The typically rage inducing unaware tourists take on a rose colored gleam, How sweet to see how people dress up for the ‘City that never sleeps. Twenty years older At my local flea market Treasure hunting for supplies Slipping through stalls, maintaining my anonymity With plans to go home, write, sit outside with my love Watch the sunset from our back porch with ocean in close proximity
Contentment fills my every pore followed by calm, wonder, ease It’s that feeling of looking out at the vastness of the sea Up at the starry moonlit sky Down a New York City Avenue towards the horizon line The sensation of being so small yet at one with the Universe. Then the pebble drops shaking me out of the haze of taking for granted the magic available to me in this big brutiful city as I make my way through the bright blue ceilings of Grand Central, Past the statuesque Lion guards of the New York Public Library Catch the top of the Empire State building sitting like a hat atop another building Then finally, I descend to my destination submerge myself in the thick air of the poorly ventilated subway station. The Q pulls in exactly as I step off the final stair and onto the platform As if the Universe is saying You made the right choice. Of course, I have to agree. I LIVE here My mind sings The train doors open I step inside The abrupt cool air of the subway car welcomes me.
I hope you find some pockets of sunshine today..
xx
A