I take their orders, bring them drinks, clear their plates, reset the table and repeat day in and day out until the summer is over. Some days I can fake a smile and other days I’m lucky if I can hold back my frustration. I know that I have not been OK this summer. I know that something is bothering me, I just can’t figure out what the problem is.
That’s when I realized I needed to visit my happy place. Where I feel like I can be myself. I feel an energy that motivates me. I feel in love, crazy and normal.
I had three days off of work to pick things back up with New York City. And in regular New York fashion, they were three days packed with perfect moments, because that’s just how New York is.
Day one: I began with a long walk through Manhattan. Like always the average New Yorkers inspired me. I was excited by their diversity, grit and motivation. They’re a reminder of what I want to be. A visit to the Big Apple is not complete without a thin slice of pizza. So on that scorching hot summer day, I walked into any given pizzeria in Greenwich Village and enjoyed a cold drink and one of New York’s simple specialties. Sometimes that’s all I need, just a long walk through Manhattan. It’s my favorite way to clear my head. I like to people watch and find some picture perfect places around the city. NYC is a photogenic place, so sometimes you just have to take it all in, in person. Slowly but surely I began to feel more in my own skin. I felt so small in NYC and for some reason it was a comforting feeling for me. It was a chance for me to stop overthinking and remind myself of all the other opportunities still ahead of me.
Day two: I went to Central Park and stopped at a deli to pick up some lunch for a picnic. Then, aimlessly walked searching for my own spot and ended up in Sheep Meadow (a 15-acre preserve with grass that is so flawless it almost seems fake.). I found a shady spot and observed my surroundings, it was a perfect day because although the sun was shining there was a cool breeze. It was bliss. I was able to take time for myself, which was long overdue. As if the moment couldn’t get any better, suddenly a small group of musicians sat near me. Near enough for me to enjoy each song they played. And what are the odds that they sing one of my favorite Frank Sinatra songs, “Fly Me to the Moon.” I felt safe and I was at peace. It was one of those moments in my life where I was content and longed for nothing and no one. I was satisfied with myself.
Day three: I spent the day in Brooklyn and it was probably the most emotional and satisfying day of the trip. I was in the borough that my parents met and fell in love in some 21 years ago.
The day was a trip down my father’s memory lane, a way for me to better understand him. My father took me to his old apartment in Park Slope, to his old place of employment, to the library that my mother frequented and walked me through what any given day might have been like for him in the early '90s.
When going to visit the old restaurant that my father worked in, he spotted an old red pickup truck. It was the very same truck that belonged to his old boss John. John is a man that my dad has always told me about. My father has so much respect for him and has nothing but good things to say. John helped my dad out a lot when he was living in Brooklyn; he knew the ins and outs of my dad’s life and treated him like family. So what are the odds that 20 years later we bump into John and his same old truck? My dad recognized his truck from a mile away; tears filled his eyes when he saw John driving down Third Ave. in Brooklyn. We met up with him in the exact restaurant that my dad worked in 20 years ago, they caught up like two old friends will do. It was a surreal moment to meet a man that my dad has so much respect for. A man that helped make my dad who he is today. It was wonderful to hear them catch up, moments such as this help to put life into perspective. They talked about their friends who’ve died from cancer, the ones who left to Ireland and never came back and how business in Brooklyn has changed for the worse.
On a wall in the restaurant hung two plaques of previous employees. My eyes filled with tears when I heard why they hung on the wall. The two employees worked in John’s restaurant. Both died on 9-11. The man was some sort of manager and it was the woman’s very first day of work at the World Trade Center. John told me it was a hard day. But he didn’t have to tell me; I knew it was, we all remember it. It crushes me every time I think about it.
I was the reason my parents left New York. They met and fell in love. However, my maternal grandparents did not approve. When they found out my mom was pregnant my parents left New York because they knew they would not live peaceful lives if they stayed.
Twenty years ago my parents were scared and unsure of their futures. How would they get by in a new city and raise a child that they hadn’t planned for? By their hard work, life turned out wonderful for my parents and me.
The last day in Brooklyn was a testament of how far my parents had come and how although we don’t know where life will take us things will end up quite all right. My parents didn’t perfectly plan out their lives and this is the reminder that I needed. A reminder that I don’t have to have everything planned out for myself, my stress is a waste of time.
And just like that, New York had done it again. It welcomed me home with open arms and restored my broken heart and anxious mind to peace. The city sent me on my way and I’ll come back like I always do and one day will hopefully stay for good.
