The start of September
… and a cup of Joe.
The air’s crisper than I’ve warmed to in the past few weeks. For the first time in a while, the morning has permission to slow — for the City anyway.
Amy’s Bread on Henry Street.
Almond brioche toast & a cup of drip coffee, with a touch of creme.
I’ve found myself at the corner of Henry & Atlantic. To my right, a diluted morning light kisses the edges of Brooklyn Heights Deli. To the left, Long Island Bar looks pale and hungover at this hour. I struggle to imagine that the imbibers it hosted last night could be doing much better.
Beside me a man sits for his morning paper, sipping from the same pot of coffee waking me now. I get the sense that I could befriend my inquisitive neighbor, despite our forty-year age gap. It must be a slow news day because he doesn’t read long, or maybe he’s just in it for the cartoons. Which makes me love him even more. He strolls back up the hill and I continue my own morning pondering.
Shocking as it may be to my once-loyal Manhattan heart, people drive here. Like, normal people.
The oversized Ford truck rolling by is less of the novelty it might be on the other side of the East River. Here extra-bench mini vans and double-decker baby chariots (strollers) shuffle through the streets without a second thought. Admittedly, the maze of newly minted parents socializing their offspring signals snoozy suburbia. But I enjoy the perspective their bliss offers. There’s nothing quite the same as hearing a child giggle in the morning. I assume all toddler tantrums must happen behind cheerfully painted closed doors. Because how could you ever cause a scene on the tranquil streets of Brooklyn Heights?
Speaking of this morning, I’ve convinced myself that the treetops above are beginning to yellow moment by moment as I sit. But at the start of September, we still have more summer ahead. Please, let that be true.
It’s been my most favorite summer. Also one of the more challenging. Maybe that’s what summer wants to be for us. It forces us to push through the discomfort a bit, but life and radiance — possibly even joy and wonder — always reveal themselves to those who do.