Last weekend my son and I drove to New York to move my daughter, and while I looked forward to seeing her, I anticipated the drive with as much excitement as I do my annual dental check-up. But once we got there I remembered that New York is an electrical socket for my soul. Somehow, its energy lights me up.
Yes, even the fistfight outside of a store in Queens, which my son and I watched from a distance.
Yes, even getting lost on the Queensboro bridge while my son barked instructions that I somehow ignored, resulting in a tour of both the upper and lower deck.
Yes, even when I tried to parallel park in a spot eleven times while my children mocked me and I screamed words that are virtually part of the environment in Queens, so nobody cared.
Yes, even when I stepped into a hole and gave myself whiplash.
Yes, even when I tried to jump back up on my daughter’s very high mattress in the middle of the night, caught my knee, and drove my head right into her ass.
Yes, even when my son tried to open my Coke as we drove through Queens in pouring rain and it spewed all over the car.
New York buzzes with energy . . .
There’s just something about having so many people in one place. Perhaps it would exhaust me on a regular basis, but I adore it for one weekend and am amazed by my daughter who motors through it every day.
I challenge the concept that New Yorkers are rude. I had people grab the door for me while leaving a restaurant, and pick up my keys for me when I dropped them inside Target.
I was behind one young man at Starbucks who smiled non-stop. Of course, according to his eyes I’m pretty sure he was stoned out of his mind, but he was happy.
Sure, the big city has its downsides. Rather than smelling pine trees, you smell grease and trash. And the birds have to sift through McDonald’s wrappers to try and find something to eat. And the homeless aren’t having a very good time. And nothing in the subway should be touched.
But, for one weekend, New York was my guru.
Here are few things that New York taught me this week . . .
Sometimes energy comes from work. Hard work. Challenges that you think there’s no way you’ll survive. . .
Believe me, on the twentieth trip up three flights of marble stairs, I was pretty sure I was done. But then I went back, got another box, and kept going. Or at least I handed it to my son and he got going.
Regardless, I made it. I found my way through Queens and Harlem without an accident. I got through a crowded Target with three baskets filled with goods without punching a single person. I kept moving until 2:00 a.m. the first day without falling asleep or bursting into tears.
And the next morning my muscles screamed, but I was ready to go again.
So, to my son and daughter and New York – thank you for the experience.
Because if you can make it in New York while moving my daughter, you can make it anywhere.