You never stop walking. You never have to. Swiping the metro card right the first time. Never stepping back as the train approaches. Falling into sync with the rest of the locals as you exit the station. Zooming by, zipping past, threading through the crowds of lost, confused, overwhelmed visitors. You were one of them. You laugh at the memory. Seems so long ago, but just ninety days ago you knew no other home than the quiet small town feel of that “other city”. No other home but the comfort of the trees, transitioning from season to season, but always coming back just the way you remembered them every, single, fall. Reds, oranges, yellows, greens—tons and tons of leaves. Now turned to street lights, corner street stands, flashing lights—tons and tons of taxis?
It’s crazy. People here are crazy. The things they do are crazy. Any one else would do a double take, but not here. Imagine, a woman enters your subway cart, bag in tow. Cats meow. “He kicked my cats” she screams, “he kicked my cats”. While I try my hardest not to laugh, I look around, and realize I’m alone. 6am and everyone is doing what they do in NY, minding their own. As a I try my hardest to fit in, try my hardest to suppress the giggles from within, the young mother, with her son across from the cat woman asks. “WHat happened?” As she goes on to tell the story of how her daughter’s dad kicked her cats in the bag and they tumbled down the stairs. And I just listened, no more laughing, and although she was probably crazy. She seemed a little crazy. I felt for her. It wasn’t about her cats. It was the abuse. The kicking of the cats. At first glance funny, look a little deeper and there’s a story of struggle. That’s why you mind your own in NY. Because you and everyone here knows, there’s always more than meets the eye.
The buildings, oh there’s tons of buildings. Lots of age to them. Sad and beautiful. Because you know that behind those graffiti tagged buildings, under those cement blocks, is someone’s home. It’s called the projects, because our people are a work in progress—emphasis on progress. We will make it. There is hope in those auburn complexes, in those kiddie playgrounds, in those gray paved ways. You feel this place in your soul. This is where dreams are tested. Down a couple blocks, few subway stops and the buildings get taller, sleeker, silver, shining in the sun. And all in one, you’ve found the place where dreams come true too. There’s nothing you can’t do. No place you can’t go. The giant, bright-lighted city becomes a big hearted, bright eyed you.
16 weeks/120 days/2880 hours and counting <3
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