I feel a twinge of embarrassment when I hear myself lamenting the cost and exhaustion that comes with living in New York City. I’m surprised to find myself disenchanted with a city that held such a mythical spot in my mind. I’m surprised to find out how much all of this wears on you after time – how those weekend getaways from the city are actually a necessity in order to retain a small semblance of sanity. How the hustle and bustle that is so magical to new and wondrous eyes, takes on a painful reminder of the anonymity of life here.
Of course, those very qualities are actually what drew me here — those qualities are what make New York City the most incredible place to exist … alongside those 8 million other people. However, over time, your perspective begins to change. Things start to lose their sparkle of exciting and new. After three years here I’ve found that I’ve started to lose my patience. I’ve started to forget what a small token of generosity it is to give a smile and hold the subway door for someone is. I’ve become so concerned with getting to Point B that I often forget to look up and bask in the light of the city that is such an awesome testament to the melting pot of architecture. And while ML and I are both suspect to these feelings these days, I found this quote in the NYTimes yesterday that reminded me of the very reason why we all put up with a lot of this crap. It’s that fleeting glimpse of a city, a magical little moment that you fall in love with this place all over again. And again. Every time.
“My dawn moment with the skyline is a moment every New Yorker knows, when the demanding city suddenly gives back, yields beauty from its pounding restlessness, grants some miracle of iron and light, and in so doing summons the energy and civility that has helped set things right.”
This view always gets me. Every. Single. Time.