I Love (Heart Goes Here) NY

I love the incessant, often strident noises all around. Really, I do love the city noises here as much as I love the deep of night quiet at our lake in the mountains. One feels life all around in the frequent sirens of all sorts, the banging of trucks being loaded and unloaded, the voices spiraling up from the sidewalks and the echoes of children laughing as they run through the halls to their apartments.

I love that many of the windows have no window treatment other than pots of plants on the sills or an air-conditioning unit or maybe curtains or blinds seldom closed. And I love that we think neither of looking into their windows nor of them looking into ours. It’s enough to see the life they choose to expose at the edges of their space with no need to delve beyond the glass, invading their privacy.

I also love the windows that are closed and covered tightly because those make me wonder about the people who live there, keeping even the slightest light from filtering in from outside. I like to imagine them as mad scientists or great writers, closing themselves off from the world so that their fertile brains are left without distraction, perhaps to change the world they don’t let in through those windows.

I love watching the tiny lady attempting to manage the giant black dog on a leash while he climbs into a sidewalk planter to do his business. Final score: Dog 2, Lady 2 (in a baggie, a big baggie.)

I love having an entire folder of menus for nearby takeout that will be delivered to the door of the apartment in less time than it would take to heat up a frozen pizza. And I like that the food is hot and tasty when it arrives. Yum!

I love the excitement on the street in the theatre district in the early evening as the lucky ones with tickets stride purposefully into the restaurants with just enough time to enjoy a quick meal before curtain time. Their anticipation of the performance ahead is almost palpable.

I love the buzz on the street when the theatres let out. Under the marquees and spilling down the sidewalks are people reviewing their experience loudly with all the energy pent up from sitting mostly mute in a dark theatre, afterwards propelled home by the emotion built up via words and/or music.

I love the neighbors’ habit of leaving fruits and vegetables on the fire escape just outside their kitchen window. I check at our kitchen window, peeping across and below each morning to see what’s new—yesterday bananas, today a loaf of bread. Is it a space issue? Is it a refrigeration technique? (It’s soon reaching into the 70’s here, so I must question that plan.) I love my compatriots, the pigeons, who also check out the fire escape stash.

I love the creativity in the attire of my fellow pedestrians. A fellow in a really expensive suit also wears a grubby watch cap on his head. A young woman wears leopard leggings with a tiny red skirt and an oversize man’s football jacket, a lavender scarf wrapped around her head, Cochise-style. An older gentleman is dapper in a camel suede vest with a houndstooth beret on his beautiful silver head of hair.

I love it all and know that tomorrow I’ll find as many more things to observe and enjoy. It’s New York City. What’s not to love?