It’s funny the things you notice when you are acutely aware that it could be your last opportunity to experience them in the flesh. And it’s mostly the small things, really; those less obvious neither here nor theres that arrive at you as seemingly insignificant and blurred pieces in one colossal jigsaw puzzle. At first blush, you have a tangled and mismatched pile of confusing languages, brilliant colors, and piercing sirens; it’s all but hopelessly overwhelming. Comprehending the beauty in the smallest corner of the biggest piece is nearly impossible.
But then, when the craggy lines of the once cryptic parts align just so, you suddenly find yourself staring at one beautiful and electrified undulating mass that is New York City. A shiny lock that catches the light on the dingiest part of a busy block, a brilliant red water pipe that astutely defies its grey walled patch of real estate, the sharp lines of a flower that from far away look like feathers, rain drops clutching onto wide green leaves lest they lose their battle and sizzle on the concrete, etchings of dates where electricity and taxi cabs were not yet even figments in an imagination (that remind you just how young we really all are), and blocks that no matter how many times I stroll their storied streets never fail to take my breath away.
In these final few weeks I have had in the city to tie up the many twisted and far reaching vines that we have cultivated and tended during our time here, I have finally stopped to soak up these smaller pieces that before were nothing but a blur during rush hour. I have walked everywhere, camera in tow, letting my Metrocard run dry to ensure that I would not be tempted to hop the 6 train but instead criss and cross and zig and zag down streets and around bends where I would have normally rushed past. I’ve spent time with dear friends, had a visit from my lovely parents, and stopped in at all of my neighborhood shops. I’ve done plenty of cooking – a sour cherry clafoutis to share with my neighbors, a crisp pan fried piece of fish that (I think) rivals even the best fried fish’n’chips, a light summer salad brimming with heirloom tomatoes, juicy peaches, and goat cheese, and an eggplant dish that I ate for lunch, and then dinner – and then lunch again the following day, it was that good. But I’ll tell you all about that later.
For now, I just want to soak up my last couple of nights in the city – the movers will be here to pack me up and whisk me away with barely enough time to eat one last mint chocolate chip cone at Cafe Cluny, and taste one last bite of a banh mi at Baoguette. Here are a few small final sights of my New York City puzzle….
{bouys lined up on carmine street, outside a favorite cafe}
{spools of colorful thread at my tailor}
{catching a glimpse of the rain after a flash sun-shower in union square}
{our favorite west village restaurant}
{an old favorite bar located on an old favorite street}
{a peek-a-boo while buying inexpensive street flowers, which i will dearly miss}
{a surprising spiky flower}
{smooth metal brightens up a tough block}
{a glimpse of a half address, that i have always coveted so}
{a unique daily affirmation i will truly miss walking past}
{chipped and weathered cafe chairs, that in mere hours will hold patrons eating moules et frites}
{and finally, time to call it a night….goodbye, NYC}
