Another Magical Moment in NYC

Very frequently I have magical moments in NYC. Often when these happen, I think about my blog (I'm not sure if that's good or sad) and how I should really write this is all down as soon as I can when it's fresh to just tell the world all about it. You know those moments that are so full of happiness, wonder, or just a warm feeling of contentment that you yearn to have everyone you know experience it as well.

I have a small one for tonight, which I will savor from a night that overall was pretty damn shitty. I was out with a "friend," or "lover" or whatever you want to call him 'cause he certainly would run like the wind if I dared mentioned, "boyfriend." That's okay, I'm not ready for that word either, but I still resent the fear in its use.

ANYWAY! Me and this handsome, but "in one of his moods" (as my grandma used to say about my grandfather's many infamous episodes) guy and I are walking home. To cut him some slack, he did have a some justification for his mood, which will I will relay another time, hopefully soon. It involves a wave of water and a plate of veal parmesan.

One thing I like about him is that when we're together, we walk. A LOT! I have walked more with him around NYC than with everyone else combined (except when just with myself whom walks quite a bit!). Usually the conversation flows without much effort and contains a lot of laughter, but tonight it was strained and his moodiness was unnerving. I've never been good at carrying on the conversation by myself. I'm the kind of person who can bounce well off of people. I'm a "responder." If you're in a good mood, hey, so am I! If you're bummed out, I feel it. It makes me sound like I have no mind of my own, perhaps I don't. Maybe the fact that I am cut from the same cloth as the Corsican Brothers makes me feel everything from those close to me too much. I'm getting pretty tired of it, really. I used to kind of see these "empath" qualities as a gift, now I just want to be left alone to feel my own feelings without being preoccupied with whether the person with me is hot, happy, worried, having fun, etc. This happened recently when a friend was here and his surly and sulky ways made me just totally resent him. Have a bit self-respect, and respect for those around you!

ANYWAY! Walking down one of these dark side streets, perhaps on about 4th street heading toward Avenue C, we hear jazz music playing, surrounding us, but yet unclear from where it was coming from. Then we come upon a gate that enters into a kind of community garden. These tiny community gardens dot NYC and seem to be lovingly and fervently cared for. A sign posted said there was a small concert, free to the public. We walked inside and sat on a large wooden box. The place was surrounding by trees, particularly weeping willows that made a dreamy canopy around the intimate crowd. People were sitting on tree stumps, logs, and some random folding chairs and makeshift benches.

Unfortunately, the tiny band of men, complete with one playing the double bass, were just ending. They pointed out a woman named Evelyn-something in the crowd -- a portly black woman who must have been pushing 70. She stood up and took the microphone and began singing the sweetest version of "What a difference a day makes" that I ever heard. The people swayed to the music, the willow branches swayed to the wind, and I was enchanted. These are the moments that I just live for in NYC. The moments that you probably wouldn't be able to experience in other places. I felt like I could have sat there all night, with my eyes half-closed in ecstasy. Yet, it was then over, and my companion was eager to get going, and we were off. Then the spell was broken and I was brought back to the reality of the date I was on.

Well, sadly I can't do much for him, but I can tuck away this tiny gem of the night as another wonderful NYC memory, the kind I constantly seek out and yearn for and that just seem to happen, especially now in the summer when it's warm and so many fantastic experiences are free. I love New York.