Time has passed and that tree outside my window that swayed so gently in the Summer breeze is now bare branched. If you look closely enough you can almost see the tiny buds about to come forth into the Spring. Reaching outward.
March is a literally that–a physical action forward in specific time with a group of people. “Onward to April!” New York seems to say. Every time it is warm, people run outside in tee-shirts only to be unpleasantly reminded by 3:00 in the afternoon, shivering in the shade, that technically it is still winter.
I spend a lot of time walking by myself listening to music, sometimes this is comforting and sometimes it makes me sad. I do like to shut out the rhythms of the city, being inward is somehow more comforting these days.
I go home a lot. I am hungry always. I constantly want to stop and buy the expensive flowers I see. I have plans on making a beautiful garden this Spring. I day-dream of it.
At night, with he window cracked and the shade slightly drawn, I look at the glowing windows of the houses across the street through the tree branches and wonder who they are. Do they look back and think the same when our light is on? Sometimes, when it is very dark, I imagine that no one lives there. The darkness just exists forever and the window is a tiny worm hole into the deep, black nothingness.
It is both terrifying and comforting.
Things I want to remember:
-Lily the magical Golden Retriever
-The lady who I held onto in the subway because it was so crowded
-Making my bed every morning, even if it means I will be late to work
-The blind man I helped cross the street
-The most beautiful flower arrangement from the farmers marker across the street
-Moving my philodendron around the living room
-The afternoon I spent walking to the library with a Levain cookie in hand on the way there and a Starbucks refresher on the way back
-All the Chelsea boots across the island
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