Happy Anniversary

Today marks our one and a half year anniversary and I got to thinking about our relationship. You are the twinkling lights, the moonrise and the sunsets over the city skyline. You are the crazy storms, frigid cold, and snowflakes hitting my eye lashes. I blame you for those unbearable hot and humid days that make me feel like a limp, wet, mop. I get frustrated with you, your popularity, and the crowds that you attract. I crave quiet walks and calm, and I end up having to share you with everyone (and their little dog). You are so popular that the traffic is in constant gridlock, honking and yelling at the chance to get to you. No matter how fast I power-walk, I never get to you on time. You never hold my reservation. Sometimes, I wait for hours in lines for you and stand in heels on subway platforms wishing I was home. I always make it, but sometimes you force me to switch trains, to get derailed, to trip. You give me blisters that will last a lifetime. Some days I am lucky. I make the train right on time, I get a seat, and the car doesn't smell. The lucky days are the days when no one stops and asks me for change, whistles, hoots or catcalls. Why do you let them do that?

Sometimes you can be such a slob. You get gum on my shoe, the kind that ends up everywhere and no matter how much peanut butter I slather on, it never comes off. Most of the time you smell fine, never great, but fine. But sometimes you smell awful. Sometimes you reek of urine--and it never really goes away. You let garbage pile up all over the streets, and you never really clean up. You are the reason that air conditioners drip onto my clean clothes as I am walking to work. You are the one who lets black snow collect in the gutters. You are the one who let's the mosquitoes fly into the room and eat me alive. You don't flinch at the thought of a cockroach, and mice are your idea of the quintessential roommate. You are the one who doesn't recycle and probably dumps all that trash into the ocean for the next generation. But, even with all that, we're making it work.

My favorite days are Sunday mornings, wandering through the farmer's market. My favorite days are long walks in Central Park in the fall, when I can wrap myself in cashmere scarves and dance in the leaves. My fondest memories are staring up at the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center; wandering down Fifth Ave looking at the holiday window displays, ice skating at Bryant Park, and the impromptu snowstorm on my birthday with all our friends. Do you remember the scavenger hunt that lasted the whole day last fall? Do remember our midnight walk through the park during Nemo? Do you remember my excitement picking out my bracelet from Tiffany, and my delight as I held the little blue box tightly in my hand? My most favorite days are taking long runs along the West Side Hwy, countless dinners with friends, and meandering through galleries on Saturday afternoons.

No matter what, you always put up with me. I get grouchy. Your loud music drives me crazy. You're never a cheap date and you refuse to go home early. You prefer a night on the town to a laid back cup of tea and cozy movie at home. You’re the first long term relationship that has drained my account weekly (for $10 salads and $6 lattes). You're the only date that has cost me countless glasses of $18 wine. You club. I hate clubbing. If you were in charge, you would prefer that I wore heels day and night, and I'm sure you would toss my Uggs. You hate my Patagonia, my Nike and my Northface. You probably wish that I wore more makeup and put more effort into brushing my hair. If it was up to you, you would request that I got my nails done everyday, pointing to a nail studio on every corner.

I know how much you love me, but I wish we had a bigger place. I wish you would let me get a dog. I wish you would help me find a job. I know you think that the corner office with the glass windows is readily available, but it's not. I know you're a Democrat, but then why do we still fight about healthcare, our zip code and monthly budgets? I know you love the subway, but why can't I have a car? You're idea of a local brew is a bottled beer. You're idea of a large latte is a 12oz (and that will never cut it). You would prefer a limo, and I would prefer a bike. You’re impartial to mountains, but I miss them with my whole heart. You think that there are plenty of trees in Central Park, but I know, deep down, it's not a forest.

I feel so lucky to have a window. I'm glad I can drink water right out of the tap. I'm glad we have survived the really hard days, so that I can better appreciate the good days. You and I have come a long way. We have grown, both inside and out. I am not sure where this journey will take us--but, New York, I am so glad we have made it this far. New York, at the end of the day, I don't have any regrets. I knew exactly what I was getting myself into from day one, even though you continue to surprise me every single day. You shake me to my core. You rattle me. You get under my skin. You pull at my heartstrings and you push me in more ways than I know how.

I hope you continue to remind me to be thankful. I hope you continue to remind me how lucky I am, no matter how crabby I get. I hope, that no matter what happens between us, we always remain friends. Do opposites attract? I'm not sure (nor am I convinced). This relationship runs deep, and there is no one out there quite like you.

Dear New York,

Here's to us.

Happy Anniversary.

Love,

Me.

Game Time

I had a good friend who threw his pencil up in the air and walked out the double doors of his undergraduate career with less than ten weeks to go. At the time I remember thinking, Seriously? Buddy! You couldn’t hold out for just ten more weeks?! I tried to wrap my brain around his. What message was he trying to send? What could have been so bad that it left him hopeless and helpless and fed up with the system?

But this week I wanted to throw my pencil up in the air, shut down my laptop and walk. For the first time, I could finally understand exactly how he felt. Not because I don’t like what I am doing, but because this stage of the game is when you begin to question everything. If I make a play, what should it be? Where will it lead? Who is on my team? Am I ready for a curve ball? The stakes are high, the competition is fierce. My team is so incredibly supportive and we are all capable of winning, of scoring a home run, and everyone is cheering in the stands. But, under the pressure, I begin to question: Do I want to be in this game?

Deep down I know that I do. I know that not every hit will be a home run, but I’m in it for the long run. Maybe it’s just a matter of sitting on the sidelines to realize how much I value the game, and how win or lose, everything is bound to work out. But I can’t help but want to trade in my pencils and books for some dandelion picking, and cloud gazing–the kind of distractions I used to catch instead of the ball.

My parents never told me what I should do. They never forced me to stay in the game if I didn’t want to be there–they still don’t. Instead, the “shoulds” come from my own self-coach. The shoulds are bossy and I get the shoulds confused with the coulds, confused with the woulds.

            What you SHOULD do.

            What you COULD do.

            What you WOULD do.

The longer you’re in the game, the shorter the time span of the “would do” or “want to do” game plan is used–replaced by “should do” and “could do.” Where is the balance? How can you win the game and still follow your heart? Remembering the wants and not forgetting about the coulds and shoulds.

At the end of the day I think it has to do with less worrying and more doing. Just play and keep playing. Don’t worry so much about the scoreboard, the ranking, the shoulds, coulds, and woulds. Instead, focus on the now and don’t lose sight of why you’re in the game to begin with. Keep your eye on the ball. These are the reminders I need to keep telling myself. With my pencil in hand, game on!

This cup is for Diana–We are in it to win it! 

Soar

This has taken me a long time to write, a long time to process, a long time to find the words. But, yesterday I was at the park and we were at the swings. I felt the breeze hit my face. Little voices laughed and squealed as they soared toward the clouds. It was one of those cool mornings with a bite in the air. It was one of those mornings where the light hits the leaves just right, giving the park a golden glow. It was one of those perfect New York autumn mornings. My heart ached. I thought of you.

I thought of your smile, your infectious laugh that would fill a room. I thought of all the love and light that filled the warehouse when you walked in. I have fond memories of hiding in shipping boxes, the look on your face when we surprised you! I thought of all the times you would reach out for a high-five. I thought about all the times you made me laugh. I thought about the undeniable love that you held for Meaghan, the kind of love that I hoped to find someday. I thought about the dedication and positive attitude that you brought to every job, every task. I thought about how you made everyone around you feel like the most important person in the world.

And here I was at the park. Here I was gazing up at the trees, up at the sky. My throat felt raw. My heart. My heart. I thought of little Julius. I thought of little Julius climbing into the swing and soaring up into the clouds. I thought of him smiling and laughing as he swung higher and higher.

I hope that one day I can take him to the park. I hope that one day we can meet at the swings and I can tell him all about the old days at TOMS. I hope I can tell him all about his dad–what an amazing person he was, not only as a husband and father, but as a friend.  And we will swing. We will swing as high as our TOMS will take us, and we will be thinking of you.

This cup is for Hammer, I will think of you always.

And for Meaghan & Julius…I will be waiting at the swings. 

(If you would like to give, please visit: http://www.forjulius.com/)