Sometimes I still can’t believe that I live here.
I walked home tonight along Hudson River Park, which is probably my favorite northbound route, but one I don’t take very often. It seems to add a lot of time to the journey. But, tonight, I took it, and I loved it as always. I love losing track of my location–not knowing if I am at 28th St. or 49th, and finding out shortly thereafter that I am one mile away from 96th (whatever that means). Living in Manhattan, there are very few moments in which I do not know exactly where I am (the subway excluded), and I find the experience exhilarating.
I saw a girl tap dancing on one of the mini-piers along the path. She was fantastic, and I cheered for her, but my cheers made her stop her tapping, which was unfortunate. We are programmed to prepare ourselves for correction and critique, and she responded in turn. But, I wanted to thank her for her openness and her courage and her artistry. She inspired me.
That inspiration took control of me 20 minutes later on 91st St., when Olly Murs’ “Dance With Me” came on shuffle, and I had to obey. I started spinning–arms in the air and face to the sky. Then, I did a few grapevines. Then, I started skipping–fiercely skipping across the street like a wild child. I skipped, spun, and grapevined my way up Central Park West. It was glorious. I jumped atop a bench in a long row of benches and hopped from one to the next, frolicking in the street à la Gene Kelly, sans rain. There were a few people around–not many, but just one would have been enough to quash my passionate display on a normal evening. But, now I think I’m ready to rewrite my definition of “normal evening”.
Sometimes I still can’t believe that I live here. And that it took me 9 months to dance in the street. Unbelievable.
Clarkson St. to Hudson River Park to 91st St. to Central Park West to 110th St. to Lenox Ave. to 118th St. to Home