Step North

                                                  Market at Union Square

 

                                                         Spring in the City

                                                         Dancing, Dancing

                                                          My Dear Friends

I wandered the streets from West 4th to Union Square on my last full day in New York City. I spent over an hour at my favorite bookstore, The Strand, and got lost in the stacks. In the African history section, searching for a book titled Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight, a wave of fatigue rippled through my body. All of a sudden the travel backpack I was wearing became extremely heavy, blood seemed to pool and pulse at my temples and I needed to get out of there immediately. I bought two books and rushed outside. Fresh air didn’t help at all (is there fresh air in the city?) and I walked to Union Square to rest. Behind a statue of a man riding a stallion, I stretched out on a park bench. My headache increased, my throat became scratchy and I knew I was coming down with something. With this bug slowly gripping me, I watched a pair of breakdancers and a thousand strange faces pass by. I felt completely overwhelmed by the constant motion of the city.

I spent the night on 125 Street with my dear friends Sahnah and Anisa. How is that time changed nothing between us? Our bond is so strong. ... I woke at 8 a.m. with a terrible sore throat. I took two Ibuprofen, packed my bag, squeezed my friends, took the subway to Penn Station, took the New Jersey Transit to Ridgewood and walked thirty minutes to where I left my car. Then, feeling slightly less horrible, I drove 7 hours to Maine. A long, long haul.

As soon as I arrived, I hugged my Grandma and passed out. I’ve been resting well, listening to Granny hum as she strolls through the house, writing, reading and nursing a bottle of ginger ale to soothe my throat. Maine is all green and so peaceful. I still feel sluggish and slow.

(Also, just so you all know, Granny doesn’t have a computer or internet in her house. I have to go the Fairfield Public Library and use an ancient old machine to update the blog or check email. They are very suspicious of my USB drive. Call me if you need anything, since I am truly unplugged.)