Falling in Love Again

My long-term love affair is with New York City. It has an air of excitement: the feeling that anything could happen. That the next opportunity is around the corner. Maybe it’s the sidewalk hustler, the mix of mundane and lux, poor literally rubbing up against ultra-wealthy, the cacophony of languages, sirens and horns, the shadow of history just peeking out from under gleaming new constructions. Whenever I arrive in New York, start walking down a street, I smile and excitedly await what the city will show me this time. His offerings are endless.

This was my first venture into the city in two years. I’ve missed him greatly. He’s been battered over the past year. I was curious about how he is recovering. Will we have the same spark? Will I have to give more of myself to make the relationship work? Or has the love affair fizzled?

I only had five hours to spend with him and met him as we often have, exiting Penn Station. Though I arrived at noon, he wasn’t quite all there: seventh Avenue at 33^rd with but a handful of cars, and I could stretch out both arms without touching another person. I crossed the street, heading towards Broadway towards the Flatiron District because I’m a nerd, and my only destination was to be able to visit the new Harry Potter store, but mainly I just wanted to sit and visit with my old friend.

 Walking across 33^rd, I shivered despite the 95 degree heat. It was ghostly: still a sense of expectation but laced with doubt. Not deserted, the streets were sparsely populated. I grabbed an ice coffee. There was no line. Turning down Broadway, I marveled at the absence of bumper to bumper traffic. The streets narrowed down to accommodate outdoor seating for restaurants. Noon and no crowds. At the Flatiron building, lines blurred by the safety netting tenting it for renovations, the plaza was nearly empty, and I only dodged one tourist having her picture taken. The golden shine of the New York Life Building glinting above an outdoor café space half empty at noon.

I grabbed takeout for lunch and headed to Madison Square Park. People maintained proper social distance on the benches. I wandered about searching for a well shaded spot and sat down on a lawn that I shared with a group of babies and their caregivers sitting around a woman with an incredible operatic singing voice, wearing a face shield as she presented a musical story hour complete with magic tricks.

As I ate, I did something I am unaccustomed to doing in NYC. I listened. The decibel level in NYC is usually quite high so that even conversing with someone next to you while walking down the street is challenging. Sitting under this tree, I could hear the conversations of passers by and those sitting on the nearest benches 10 feet away. I walked past a fountain and heard one maintenance worker say to another “I love Shakespeare. It’s like the Bible.” It cracked me up imagining that this man might be a Broadway actor working here till the theaters open again. I heard snatches of conversations from the people walking past me on the street.

New York has changed. Who knows if it will remain like this, but this New York was magical and not only because I got into the Harry Potter store. He charmed me anew with this softer side. I have fallen deeper in love.