bronchitis back, or allergies, or asthma the doctors swore I didn’t really have, or that elusive urban cough, popping in and out from sweltering heat to subzero subway cars to sweltering subway platforms and sun again.
The city can’t scare me! I said defiantly this morning before collapsing into pillows.
It’s true I need to work harder at being well. I need to drink more tea and slice more lemons and sip more honey and eat ginger and vitamins and find a specialist who accepts my student insurance and run when it stops being beastly.
One of my closest and oldest friends is working to be substance-free. You have to do your own part, he says. I have never been prouder of him.
I realized this with love. I realized I could walk around, daydreaming about it and wishing and wondering, or I could get on that damn plane. So I got on that damn plane.
It was the best decision I have ever made.
Should we go to the Empire State building? we asked ourselves. It was late afternoon. We were wandering. We saw the sign. We were not planning it, but then we saw the sign. There was a twenty to forty minute wait time. Would it ever get any shorter? we asked ourselves. No.
I have not tried to sell my novel. I have not tried to get an agent. I have not even tried to send it to the ones who asked. I am scared. I have thought not knowing was better than knowing, better than rejection. Walking around, daydreaming, wishing.
On top of the Empire State building, the quiet was a blanket. No traffic sounds, no sirens, no conversation. It was not hot like below, not cold like I thought it would be. Wind worried the hem of my dress and so you held it down, held me down. We watched the sun sink, and the lights go on in the city, one by one, little flashbulbs.
It was the right decision to climb. It is time to know. I have to work harder, take one more step.