You know, I don't have curtains on my windows yet, which I know is wildly unsafe and all, but I just don't have them yet. So I'm lying there in bed a couple nights ago, it was a clear evening outside and the moon was shining bright. Not quite a full moon, but since I don't know all the moon-terms, I'll just say it was out.
So I'm lying there, looking up at the moon as it shines through the fire escape bars outside my window and cascades down the sides of the buildings and clothes drying on clotheslines. Cut to me, living out my own American Tale moment.
Not that I knew if anyone else was looking at the whatever-sized moon that night. I didn't. But I couldn't help but feel closer to my people who are far away. New York can be a very isolating place. Yes, I have such great friends here and yes I just had so many friends from far away that were here visiting and I loved every minute of that - but New York can still be isolating.
I remember the first night I was here, so many years ago, I went to the rooftop of the building I was staying in, near Times Square, and I just listened. There was so much life and so much light everywhere, but I felt so alone. Not in a sad, I need a therapist, sort of way. But in the fact that this city is so huge and you are just this one person. Not all of us get to be Diddy with a giant billboard of ourselves in Times Square to bolster our egos. It was that moment that I had the very humbling experience of finding out just how small I am and while I'm capable of great things, I'm still small.
But a few nights ago, staring at that moon, imagining those mice singing as they too looked at the New York City moon, and I thanked God for the people in my life, wherever they are out there.
Sappy and sentimental, I know. But it happened and it reminded me yet again of what's important in this life. It's not about my job, it's not about my magazine, it's not about this city I love so much. It's about the family and friends I love. And I do. I love them.
You know who you are.