Coming Home

Walking into the park feels like coming back home after a long vacation. I don’t quite remember where my things go and it feels like everything is both new and old at the same time. Although now, instead of coming back and settling myself into my favorite spots, I am being guided into the nooks and crannies that are unfamiliar to me.

We walk down the path, paved with hexagonal stones, onto the ledge overlooking the river. Leaning against the cold metal railing, I take a snapshot with my phone of the way the sun slowly creeps behind the the skyline, and in my mind I take one of all the things that cannot be captured in a photograph. The smell of salt in the water mixed with the muskiness of his cologne, the gentle yet violent sound of the waves, the softness of the wind, and the coolness of the air.

Out of the corner of my eye a string of lights catches my attention. Draped like Christmas decorations over a boat sitting still in the water, they provide an ambiance for several people enjoying dinner in the receding glow of the sun.

Deciding to move on to our intended destination, we walk side by side taking in the beauty and quiet of the park. Walking down this path is like walking between two worlds of color. On the left are the warm, brick built buildings of Battery Park City. On the right are the cool, glass towers of Jersey City. Both are beautiful in their own right.

Taking a series of turns we end up under a canopy of geometric glass, walking up to the restaurant with its name, SHAKE SHACK, displayed in giant metal letters on it’s marquee. Passing by families and couples dining at the tables outside, we walk in and attach ourselves to the end of the snaking line. For once I feel adventurous enough to stray from my strict diet of vanilla milkshakes but instantly regret it after taking a sip of what can only be described as a disgrace.

Our slow paced evening is suddenly sped up after getting a message that my mother is feeling ill. Walking a few blocks to the nearest grocery, only to be told that we had “three minutes left, ok?” had us gliding down the aisles in search of medicine. Bags of chips, bottles of juice and  rolls of paper towels occupy the shelves but my target is nowhere in sight. It is only after walking back to the entrance and glancing behind the register, that we walked right past upon entering, that I see what I was searching for.

After leaving with a small pink bottle, an appreciative smile, and a “thank you” to the cashier we make our way home. Although for me, I am leaving one of my homes behind.