The Narrows
Running on the promenade that parallels the Narrows, where the Atlantic Ocean knocks on the door of New York City. The sun is setting so beautifully behind the Verrazano Bridge it almost stops me in my tracks. As darkness falls, blending with the orange, red, and purple halo above Staten Island, the lights from the bridge reflect, sparkle, and dance on the water. I run past fishermen, bundled against the cool wind as they cast their lines into the water. I am not cold at all because I have been running, and in fact, I am peeling off my the top layer of my sweat-soaked clothes as I run, and as I do the cool wind feels wonderful. My legs are moving at a good pace, propelling me, surprisingly effortlessly, alongside the waves as they splash upon the rocks. As I run up the hill and into the narrow little streets of Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, I see happy kids playing street hockey even though it is now dark outside, and they remind me of my childhood. I run past the lit up pubs with people laughing inside, celebrating the arrival of the weekend. I stop running and walk as I approach a small cluster of shops and restaurants where I buy a bottle of wine and a couple of crab cakes. I enter my apartment building, which feels so warm compared to outside, and exchange pleasant chit chat with my neighbors as we ride up the elevator. When I get to my apartment there is a sweet little dog waiting for me who greets me at the door, so happy to see me, and I am so thankful that God, the Universe, or sheer luck has allowed her, my best friend, to be with me this long.
So far it has been an extraordinary evening.