In the words of Carrie Bradshaw

Men in their forties are like the New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle: tricky, complicated, and you're never really sure you got the right answer. [Carrie]”Sex and the City"

The day came....

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

Anais Nin

Brooklyn Bridge & letting go...

For 3 weeks, I experienced intermittent pain, more of a tug on my heart strings, when I looked at the Brooklyn Bridge. Silly, yes. Logical, no. I was instantaneously taken back to a magical moment, merely weeks ago, when I walked the bridge with him. Suddenly, this beautiful structure, no longer represented just that. Working in downtown Manhattan, I couldn't help but see it every day.

Yesterday, a friend  told me just how insane it was of me to think this way. He said, I needed to "replace the memory." So, he dragged me across it. I never envisioned it to be a traumatic experience, with me, breaking down mid walk, kicking my legs and screaming. But, I envisioned it to sting. We laughed and chatted on my second walk across the bridge. We made light of it. We joked. We kidded around about the last time I had experienced the Brooklyn Bridge. It was easier than I anticipated.  I made it out alive, feeling some sort of accomplishment. I could no longer associate the Brooklyn Bridge experience with "him." I could no longer reminisce about the "last time" I walked across the Bridge, as I had replaced the memory with a different one.

At one point, we stopped and looked down at the South St. Seaport, very much like he and I had. I stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. I looked down to a place I believed I had "fallen" for this guy, in better times. I paused for a moment and realized that I couldn't be a 'prisoner' to these memories anymore. It made no sense. Yes, he hurt me. But, what sense was it to walk around with a heavy heart, avoiding beautiful structures like the Brooklyn Bridge and South St. Seaport, simply because I associated those places with him? I looked down and swore it was time to let it all go....



Letting go doesn’t mean giving up, but rather accepting that there are things that cannot be. - Anonymous.

Yogurt & Berries, OJ, & Girl Talk...

Today I enjoyed yogurt & berries with OJ, with a friend. It was a beautiful day in city, everyone was out and about. While I was engaged in our conversation, I couldn't help but be distracted by the pedestrian traffic outside the large windows.  I watched couples strolling by, enjoying the weather hand in hand. No, I wasn't overcome with bitterness or envy or even jealousy, when I saw so many lovebirds. But, I couldn't help but feel a certain sense of wonder, perhaps nostgalia, perhaps even a strange longing. 

The wonder was, at the moment I enjoyed yogurt and berries, where was he? Was he enjoying the stellar Sunday that I, and so many New Yorkers were? Was he out and about, enjoying the sun, enjoying the weather, enjoying the typical Sunday brunch? If I knew him at all (which, I'm not sure I even did), he was among many,  engaged in interesting discussion, fully immersed in the moment, looking as beautiful as ever.  

Nostalgia  is defined as  a yearning for the past. The word is a learned formation of a Greek compound, meaning "returning home",  a Homeric word, and ἄλγος (álgos), meaning "pain, ache". That pretty much surmised my sentiments: pain & ache. As I enjoyed brunch, I couldn't help but long for two weeks ago, when we at brunch on a beautiful Sunday, very similar to today. As I ate the yogurt & berries, I contemplated how delicious it was and how he would have loved it. I reflected back to how so much had changed in the past two weeks. It saddened me.

I experienced a sense of Longing . I couldn't help but wonder, momentarily about all of the various things I could have said and done differently. Unrealistically, I longed to go back to that "moment," I somehow concluded I "lost" him. I contemplated what I would have done differently.  I longed to go back to the Saturday we walked across the Brooklyn bridge. I longed to go back to the Mexican restaurant in the West Village. I longed to go back to first laying eyes on him, where I felt butterflies everywhere . I longed to go back to the place where he courted me, where I reminded myself that I would only take this at face value and "wanted nothing serious." My mind was inundated. 

It's strange how the mind works. It's stranger how the mind works when sad. A simple brunch, on a beautiful Sunday, surrounded by a friend, had prompted so many emotions and thoughts.  We may be the city that never sleeps and with that, can also be a mind that never sleeps.