Realization

It hits you in the strangest of moments, that scent of something lost. It's 3 am and the pictures are scattered across her bed again. If you ask her, she'll tell the truth this time. Things are not okay.

Snow has been cleared from most of the parking garage. The lampposts are always shining. Music is playing through computer speakers. For tonight, silence is too loud. She's not ready for that. She's not ready for that yet.

She's not ready to be alone.

When she closes her eyes, she remembers the smell of latkes that always seemed to linger and the nights she shared her bed. She remembers bagel breakfasts and eight hour car rides. She remembers party hats and streamers and acting out Purim spiels. She remembers tickling and laughter and arms wrapped around her.

She's feeling naked now. She needs someone to hold.

She wishes she had never let go.

Renewal and Rabbit Holes

When you're standing across from a man for ten minutes, he begins to look familiar. You wonder if you've seen him before or if a shared subway ride can really be that intimate. You close your eyes to remember his face- laugh lines, glasses, winter cap covering graying hair. You wonder what he's scribbling in his notebook, leather-bound, and what he thinks of your bed-headed, Starbucks-sipping self. The 1 pulls into Times Square. You exit. He doesn't look up.

El Diario is sitting across from The New York Times and next to a Chinese paper I will probably never understand. For a moment, three worlds align. I stand and bear witness. It's empowering in a way.

Is it possible to be exhausted yet refreshed?

Once again, I find myself with questions. Once again, the reading is responsive, and my words have been scripted, and I know what I am saying, but I do not understand. I am searching for reasons, uncovering wood and stone, rifling through memory, reading facts on Snapple caps.

The ground upon which we stand is wrought with faults.

Life is fragile.

I lean into the wind.

Life is fragile.

From this moment forward, I vow to make mine count.

Pomegranate Seeds

There is so much life that I am living. There are meetings and concerts and classes and moments and the world keeps turning and the smiles keep fleeting and flitting as I New York City step around you. I love the feel of excitement and the way it lingers in the air. I love the taste of promise and the grinding of gears as another puzzle piece is laid in its place. A picture is slowly evolving. I love watching it unfurl.

The year is 2011, and while its eve brought seven days of grief, I have seen another morning. Life is in full force now and it is exhilarating. Day to day is not a monotony for each sunrise brings another thrill.

I missed the childhood wonder, but it's so easy to fall back into it again.

Each sunset has its own brilliancy and each snowflake its special flare. Each passerby has her own story to share and I want nothing more than to listen.

I've started making lists again, but this time, I think it's different. This time, I'm not afraid to breathe.