Twenty-six Was Going To Be Wonderful
I’m leaving the city. Just for a spell. I need an undefined number of days (months if I had it my way) to see the last colored leaves cling to their branches, to look out at an ocean that I rarely see (except when I’m flying ‘coach’ class), to breath and not smell ambition and trash.
This year has been hard. New York is hard. You think that if you stay in the city just a little bit longer, you’ll crack the code. So I’ve stayed and I’ve stayed and I haven’t taken trips, like the smart people, to warmer climates, to undiscovered pockets of pristine countries. I haven’t even seen my beautiful niece. She’s turning into a little person, wearing cowboy hats, eating avocadoes—I’ve missed all that. Instead, I’ve sat at my small kitchen table, stared through the burglar bars on my window and tried to write a book. There have been too many dinners out and emotions kept in. I walk the same path to Union Square and back and forget about Carnegie Hill, the Boat Basin and museums where I can lose myself and the minutiae that crowd my everyday thoughts. I’ve forgotten the rest of the world.
The ‘even’ years have always been good to me. Age 22, 24… and then, age 26 came along. My grandfather died. It was the first month of the year. I should have just given up then, crawled into bed and slept for eleven months. Maybe I could have asked my sweet mother to wake me up with a bowl of black-eyed peas (good luck down South) on New Year’s Day, 2007. But, of course, I didn’t do that. My grandfather was dead and I tried to compress my sadness—the black hole, the grief, the despondency—into a week of ceremonies and dinners. I nodded my head and smiled and everyone was really very lovely. I was cured. Twenty-six was going to be wonderful.
Ah, yes, but I had forgotten that the promise of Pappy (my grandfather) carried me through so many of my New York days. He was my fairytale, the guarantee that all was well, the assurance that men—or even just people—like him existed. And then he died and the dream went along with him.
I’ll be back soon, fresh and new and with a little faith restored (let’s hope so, anyway)…
November 3rd, 2006 at 6:34 am
Bon chance mon ami .
(Do keep in touch.)
November 3rd, 2006 at 7:40 am
I read about your blog on the Pensacola News Journal web site. It dawned on me that you were the niece of a friend I grew up with in Pensacola. Braden would want you to keep pushing. Look to your mom, Kirk and Roger and you’ll see a lot of that great and kind man. I have great memories of swimming in the pool on Yates ave, skiing in the bayou and going to the farm. My best regards to all your family. Dave W
November 3rd, 2006 at 9:35 am
Sometimes we just need a break. Whether it’s a break from the dizzying madness that is this city or a break from a pastoral silence.
Just don’t forget who you are or why you’re here. Everything will fall into place as it should and the sun will shine on you again.
November 3rd, 2006 at 11:25 am
I agree — sometimes you need to take a break. Fortunately, I grew up out on Long Island, so my family is here… but it helps to have a place to “decamp” to.
Take care. The great thing about New York is… it will always be here.
November 3rd, 2006 at 12:30 pm
Hang in there. NYC is never easy. I’ve been here 11 years and the code has not been cracked. Sometimes we all need a little perspective. Clear your head and make a decision of what’s next from there.
November 4th, 2006 at 11:54 am
Good luck with your break. There’s really no secret to New York, though. The key is to remember that it is not about glamor, power, and expensive lifestyles for most of the people who live here. When you get back, take advantage of the full range of things, getting out of Manhattan sometimes (especially the downtown and midtown scenes!) and into Queens, Brooklyn, and the Bronx. I think you’ll see New York from a new perspective, and I hope be more comfortable here.
November 6th, 2006 at 1:59 pm
Oh, Belle I am so sorry for your loss. I lost my “grama” (a Southern belle like yourself) several years ago and I can say that you never really “get over”it… but you learn how to live without them — and you learn that they are always with you, a part of you really. Your pappy is with you. Don’t forget that. Take the time you need and your readers will await more posts from you when you are ready.
November 6th, 2006 at 4:18 pm
Stepping back from it all is the best way to get a better view of where you’ve been and where you’re going. Enjoy your time away!
November 8th, 2006 at 7:10 am
Midtown doesn’t have a “scene”. What kind of NYer are you?! A tourist?
I apologize for my outburst.
(Hi B!)
November 9th, 2006 at 7:28 pm
Get away. Get better. Come back.