Today I hate New York

Today... I just want to be home. Where I can drive a car, where it isn't 25 degrees, where a trip to target takes 10mins, not 45. Where you don't have to wrestle your bag out of the subway, where you aren't sitting shoulder to shoulder with woman next to you trying to read your phone screen and where you don't have to walk up 66 stairs.

Pieces of my heart

This morning in my office there was a meeting. And as I sat at my desk I overheard the new comers talking about their kids studying abroad. It made me think of my brother and his trip to Turkey this semester. He text me, "We need to go some where brand new for my birthday." I promised to visit him in Europe for his birthday. We've been throwing around ideas for different countries. Of course I've named the places I've lived as potential destinations "Dublin" "Venice." "Paris". And as I thought about these places and some others I've visited San Francisco, my new home New York City, I reflected on how I've left a little bit of myself in each of those cities I love so much and how I carry a little bit of each city in my heart with me. I love them and in some of them I truly feel whole. So excited to visit him for his birthday, wonder where it'll be?

Talented dad

As the signal changed I started to cross the street. I was checking my email on the way to the train station. I looked up just in time to swerve out of the way of a very dapper looking man, who just happened to be pushing a stroller at the same time that he was holding onto his 4 year old's two wheeler. And all I could think was 'wow, talented.'

On my way home.

We had just finished happy hour, celebrating, congratulating a co-worker on their new job. Celebrating with drinks, with others, in a happy way. I get on the train, and I look across the aisle and there's a man sitting there. He looks like he's half asleep, but he doesn't look homely, and then he takes a paper bag from his side, and he lifts it to his lips, alcohol. Not celebratory, not happy, sad. I saw so much despair in that one glance. I wanted to cry. I wanted to go over and hug him. I don't know what he was going through, I don't know what had happened in his life, but I wanted to cry for him. Instead, I sent up a silent prayer. I prayed that he would find what he was looking for, not in that bottle, or any other bottle, but a real contentment. It was a tough ride, it was hard and I don't know if I handled it right, maybe I should have told him that things were gonna change. That I would pray for him. But I didn't, but I hope next time I'll know what to do. And please send up a quick prayer likewise.

"Thanks for noticing."

Three simple words, but ones that carry so much weight. And resonated with me. Isn't that what everyone was seeking? Just a little bit of notice, just someone who would affirm their ideals, their, fashion sense, their opinion and even teir haircut. It wasn't a big deal to notice, and then to say something, but somehow, in that moment, it seemed to be the most important thing.

The simple joys of highlighter hunting at work

To which she came up to my desk and responded "He would've fired me on the spot had I offered him a pink highlighter."

Ups guy

Is it weird to tell the 60 year old UPS guy he smells nice?