There are things that I want.

I want to wake up in the morning to watch the sunrise, drink coffee and make a decision. Just one decision.

To get in the car and start driving.

I imagine myself driving to the train station and buying a one-way ticket. The ticket is for New York Penn Station. To the land of endless opportunity.

The train won’t arrive for another 15 minutes, so I'll sit in the terminal and take out my journal.

There are only a handful of people now, a majority of the travelers will straggle in with five minutes to spare, a few will sprint breathlessly from the parking garage, catching the train by a fraction of a second.

And I’ll think about these people. I’ll think about who they are and where they are going. Who do they love and what did they eat for breakfast? Do they drink coffee, too? Are they happy?

But I won’t ask--this is a silent exercise.

The woman with the puffy purple jacket has dark hair and an olive complexion; she’s pushing a purple stroller that holds a little boy.

They share the same facial features, he must be her son.

I imagine that they are taking the train to New York to go back home. She was visiting her sister in central Jersey while her husband was away on business. It’s not the healthiest relationship since he travels often and she feels neglected, despite his financial success.

As I’m writing, the train pulls in.

I want to believe that this woman is happy, or that she’ll see a happy ending. That’s what we all want, right?

The train isn’t crowded yet, this is only the second stop, so I take a window seat and stare at the unfamiliar urban scenery as it flies by.

This is what people from out of state think of when they hear “dirty Jerz”, but this part of the world is a mystery to me, and I love it.

I want to get off at the next stop and explore the unknown cement jungles. But I stay seated for New York. I stay focused on my goal.

When the train pulls into Penn Station, I feel it, and it is so beautiful. My chest aches.

I feel untethered--free.

Passengers spill out onto the platform and, suddenly, a familiar wave washes over me.

Right now, I am lost in a sea of people.

My thoughts are silenced by the screeching din of our train, in motion once again to say hello to more people and then to say goodbye. Everyone shuffles toward the escalators, races toward the stairs.

There are two types of people in this world: elevator people and stair people.

Today, I take the stairs.

It’s cold, 19 degrees, and most people would think, "What a crazy day to pick to go into the city".

But really, all we get is today. So I’ll choose today.

The sky shines grey and clear, no chance of frozen rain.

City noise--cars flying by, horns blaring, sirens flashing, and it’s just like the train platform, but better.

The sea stretches for miles, and I walk, and I am lost and cold and calm.

And I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want to be alone, to dream, and attached this idea, to love, at the same time.