You open your eyes—but just barely.
After days and days of rain, there is a perfect sunrise outside your window, so you hit snooze and just bathe in it for awhile.
You get up and dress for how you feel, which is righteous and made of steel, and even though you have already walked out the front door, you double back and change shoes, because you don’t deserve to be anything but comfortable today.
On your way to the subway you realize the summertime-in-New-York-City garbage smell is there…but only faintly…and gosh, is this what regular air smells like?
Your train ride feels like it’s over in a moment because you’re deep in thought, and even though there is that guy acting suspicious (although what does suspicious even mean in New York anyway?) you decide to let it go, because if this is going to be the day you depart this Earth, it seems like a pretty good one.
The sunshine has sated your appetite and for the first time in your life you don’t start your morning with a carb or even a coffee–it begins with a glass of water. And the funny thing is, even though you’ve hated water your whole life, you don’t mind it today.
You open your inbox and it’s rainbows and good news.
That partner said yes.
The project is a go.
The script you co-wrote slayed.
You look up from your computer at your colleagues who are busy making beautiful, wonderful things, and you marvel at how fucking talented they are.
And then you email some other people expecting they will have forgotten about this thing that is due, but they haven’t, and here it is, and it’s so damn good.
It’s lunch time, so you walk around SoHo, beautiful, cinematic SoHo, and you decide to try a new place, but the salad is lackluster, and the soup is sour. Honestly though, it doesn’t even matter, because there is a pack of peanut M&M’s waiting at your desk anyway. You have another water.
Later, you go to that meeting with a lot of senior people, including those women you admire. At one point they turn to you to ask how the delivery of the project is going, and you realize you are the one with the answers, and though the imposter syndrome (#patriarchy) will never go away, for today, it has been vanquished.
Your phone blinks and it’s a friend sending you a poem that made her think of you, and how lucky are you to have friends who read poetry? And how lucky are you to be remembered?
Then, before you know it, it’s the end of the day and you’re shrugging off your introverted tendencies to meet a new person who might also become a future friend. Who knows? Today anything is possible.
And then it’s getting late and even though you’re 57 blocks from home, you decide, fuck it, why waste this beautiful night underground? So you grab a bike and ride along Riverside Drive as the sun is setting and turning into twilight.
And your legs are pumping, working to shed their winter lethargy.
And the blinking light on your bike is keeping synced with your heartbeat.
And the motion of the waves is hypnotic.
And the light on the water is so perfect you think your heart will break into a thousand pieces.
And you pass the people who are out for a night stroll.
And you pass the people in love on their picnic blankets.
And you pass the people sitting so close to the water they seem to hope it will rise and just carry them away.
And then it’s dark and you haven’t seen anyone on the trail for a little while, which is a little scary, but also thrilling.
And then the wind catches your dress and it flies up around your waist, and you laugh, because, thankfully, no one is there to see your underwear selection.
Your neighborhood comes into view—it’s the one with blinking signs and unsightly billboards—but you don’t mind because it’s yours.
You park your bike, and you climb up the hill, and you smile at everyone, this lone white woman with wild and shining eyes.
You turn the corner onto your street and people have brought folding chairs out onto the sidewalk, and they have an old boombox playing music you can’t understand.
And you realize that this is a perfect day.
And you realize that this is the start of summer in New York.