I took this picture while taking a walk in NYC in late October. I geeked out a little on that trip because it was my first time having a meeting at the UN headquarters - to date, I've only been in regional offices. I remember the October air being crisp, whipping my hair across my face.
While in NYC, I was able to catch up with one of my oldest friends, Jason, who lives in Williamsburg. A southern California transplant (like myself), he is mesmerized by the city, its energy, the constant pace. We ate dinner at his favorite Argentinian restaurant, during which he chided me (and Ethan) for not visiting him sooner and now only because work required it. Afterwards, we had drinks while we admired the skyline. The city glittered. I remembered how, as a child, I was always drawn to this place.
That was October.
Then, November came, knocking me off my feet. There were a string of tragedies, in varying sizes, each one toppling me over, chipping away at me bit by bit. The collective effect was not good.
But that's life, isn't it? Horrible months like November make me realize how lucky I am to be able to dabble in all the frivolous crap I often enjoy - lately, my searches for Mayle dresses, Erin Considine necklaces, and Dieppa Restrepo boots, my constant daydreams about travel. But I don't feel guilty for these silly thoughts and musings. They're privileges, markers of lighter days.
It's a new month.
