Slowly by slowly

 

Of late, I have been experiencing the odd sense of being newly awake to the city around me. I find myself whipping out my Blackberry and snapping pictures, and wishing I had an iPhone so I could play with Instagram more than I do on my Touch, the camera for which doesn't compare. But what is that sense of awakening? It's as if I've been on autopilot, not really seeing what's there, the gritty beauty of it all, the intricate designs on prewar buildings, the posters plastered one on top of the other on plywood around construction sites, creating incredible accidental collages, the layered reflections in storefronts I pass, chaotic and ever changing, like the city.

I'm waking up to myself as well, finally paying attention to the aches in my body, and deciding I don't have to live with them, they are not destiny. And my man, sometimes I look at him and feel such a rush of affection, like we're in this together, still making it up as we go.

I had lunch last Saturday with one of my dearest friends, and over my almond cappuccino, with the cool September sun on our shoulders, it occurred to me that the way to trip myself up in this new stage of my life is to hobble it with expectations of what it should be. My friend and I discussed this revelation, picking it apart like we were in therapy, and when I left her, I realized that I had taken off a very weighty garment, left it neatly folded on a corner somewhere, there was no need at all to bring it home.