On a Wednesday! (I thought Mondays were when museums snoozed.)
Anyway, the upside to that downer was that it was early enough to stroll through the park.
I haven’t been through Central Park in, oh, a year, maybe? My favorite part is the very north, but angling down from East 85th to 72nd and Central Park West was still lovely.
Once I hit the street again I kept walking west until I hit the train station. There were a lot of people out, but I’ve learned how to look around while dodging oncoming pedestrians; all I could think, as I gazed at the sculpted ironwork and stately facades, the cheeky cornices and inscrutable reliefs, was Oh, this really is a beautiful city.
I bitch a lot about my life—I’m middle-aged and living like a graduate student, I’ve tanked my own career—but I’m living in a city that I’ve loved since I was young, and teaching students from around the world at a city university which is open to them all.
I really don’t know life at all—maybe I never will—but I’m all right. I’m all right.
May you live a beautiful life in a beautiful city, however strange it all may be.