A Cornucopia of Gratitude

Thanksgiving always brings reflection. Or at least, it should. It should be the one day of the 365 where we slow our pace and stop to think about our lives, what we are grateful for and what we too often take for granted in our daily lives.

I was especially pensive this Thanksgiving, as I spent the majority of it alone. I decided to stay in New York City and go to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, something I have dreamed about experiencing since I was a little girl, watching it on t.v. from start to finish each Thanksgiving Day, wide-eyed, for the past 29 years. Standing by Central Park and watching the floats, bands and people go by was a childhood dream realized and totally worthwhile staying. But, spending a Thanksgiving alone does bring more time to really think about things.

I felt strong and independent, and I also felt lonely today without my family. When not surrounded by the comfort of family on a day such as this, their importance in your life is reinforced. I missed my boyfriend, mom and dad, sister and brother-in-law, two precious nephews and grandmothers. Family cannot be replaced, and I am so thankful to have such an amazing one.

I am abundantly grateful for my life. The freedom and the choices that I have. The ability to travel and see the world the way that I have and continue to get to do. For my job and the options its given me. For incredible friends that have walked with me through so many stages of life. For personal growth and that I'm not the same person that I was 5 years ago, and how the journey of life brings beautiful things into the heart and the soul.

I'm thankful that my nephew, Peyton, is now a thriving and healthy little 11 month old boy, after coming into the world unexpectedly early last December at only 23 and 1/2 weeks of growth. I still can't look at a picture of him now and not get teary-eyed.

I'm thankful for the opportunity to live in New York, another dream of mine, and for being 29 years old and healthy and feeling like the world is my oyster to discover.

I'm sitting in an airport bar right now and it's completely deserted. Just me, the bartender and my glass of Pinot Noir. Apparently most people don't travel on Thanksgiving. I'm traveling south to be with loved ones, and I cannot wait to get there. My trip out to the airport on the subway led to some interesting thoughts. Subway rides always give me a time to quiet my soul and think about things, observe other people and think about my life.

Even on a day of thanks such as this, so many people looked tired today. Not just lacking in sleep, but seeming to have a tiredness of soul. It made me sad to see, and it felt strange going from watching Santa bring in Christmas with jubilee and rolling laughter on Central Park West next to chandeliered multi-million dollar mansions, to seeing the tired and despairing faces of so many who share this city with me.

As I traveled further into Queens and soon was surrounded by first generation Americans, I could no longer hear the English language, and it made me wonder if these people knew about Thanksgiving. Of course they know about it, but do they feel a connection to this country yet in the way that so many of us do? Is every day a struggle and the thought of gathering around a dining room table with a feast-like spread a fleeting thought? America is such a dynamic mix of people and stories, and there is a new generation of Americans that are far removed from the Anglo-Saxon pilgrims with tophats and buttoned suspenders. This man was playing the saxophone for quarters and dollar bills in the subway today. He was unbelievably talented and could give Kenny G a run for his money. It made me wonder where his family was, why he was there in that dirty subway station on Thanksgiving Day, and how he ended up playing there instead of playing in high-end venues among the Manhattan socialites.

I hope that every person, no matter their culture, can have some things in their lives that they are grateful for, even if their life is a life of struggle. To all who read this, Happy Thanksgiving. May your heart overflow with love and your year be one of positive change, peace, and abundant blessings.

Living in a Land of Extremes

Coming from Texas, where for the most part life seemed steady and each day was about as normal as the day before.... to New York City, a land of possibilities, where everything changes as quickly as the taxicab drivers race down 6th Avenue, has been(needless to say) quite an adjustment.

I am living in a land of extremes. That is the best way that I can describe it. The seasons, the weather, the moods, the people, the division of the haves and the have nots...every end of the spectrum is covered in New York.

A rainy day, for example. In Texas, people have umbrellas but don't really need them because they drive cars. Let's face it: no one actually walks anywhere unless they're intentionally exercising in Dallas. New York, au contraire. I stepped out from my marble steps this week into the pouring rain sans rain boots. First mistake. Note to self: get rubber boots, and get them quickly. I popped open my stylish umbrella, and within two seconds, it was flipped inside out, my hair was whipping violently across my face and the pelting rain was stinging my squinting eyes. Rainy days are a bit more difficult to manage here, I've found.

I hopped onto the subway and plopped down across the way from none other than... you got it: Mr. and Mrs. Claus. They come up for a few months each year from Florida (oh so cliche) to work in their retirement years. Sitting next to them was a Snoop Dog wannabe with so much gold bling around his neck, he could sell it to a dentist's office. Extremes: Exhibit A.

The extremes are thrilling to me -- they make everyday a new world of exploration. Although each day holds new surprises, I know it will also hold a few constants: interesting, Lady Gaga-like fashion walking the streets, massive amounts of profanity when a rushed New Yorker just misses his subway connection, and the delectable aroma of those roasted nuts sold at stands all across the city in the wintertime.

And, it will hold some little things that I love: a beautiful cup of coffee from Joes on my neighboring Street, Waverly; a precious little girl on the subway with her larger-than-life backpack; and, fabulous clothes that I crave on each and every street corner. Oh New York... I love you.

There is No Place Like New York

Truly, there is no place on earth like New York City. I have completely fallen in love. Initially I thought, "I could live here for a year or two." Today, I felt like I could be here indefinitely. It has officially become home.

A place becomes home when a familiar sight or sound ... or especially in New York, a particular smell... brings about a feeling of warmth in your gut. A feeling that your senses recognize as 'home' before your mind can logically process that thought. I realized this today when I heard the high-pitched and off-tune squeals of the chords on an old guitar, played by a scruffy, middle-aged man with Albert Einstein hair tamed under a baseball cap. He plays every day at the subway stop near my apartment that I frequent. As I was walking briskly down the stairs, the familiar tune drifted to my ears and its tarnished melody wrapped me in a blanket of comfort.

It's the little things about this city that I love. Each day I step outside my door with wonder. Its energy, its excitement, its culture. What will the day hold? I had a conversation at Trader Joes tonight with the young man who bagged my groceries, and I discovered that he's a Nude Break Dancer Figure Model. Meaning, he break dances nude and art students take pictures of him. Nothing surprises me here, and I love that. Everyone has a story.

Walking home with Washington Square park on my left, a place filled with musicians and dreamers, I passed a restaurant tucked below ground level on my right. Nestled inside were people in love, people who had fallen out of love; people facing situations with courage, people feeling hopeless. Mothers, fathers, daughters, friends, all sharing their stories inside by candlelight, away from the chill of the autumn night air.

Some final highlights of the day:

I've always wanted to stop at this little cupcake shop on 14th St. called "Baked by Melissa." They have bite-sized bits of deliciousness, and today was the day to partake. Smores, cookie dough, caramel espresso chocolate... yes please. On the flip side of a sugar high, I came across "Brussel Sprout Stalks" at Trader Joes. Huh. Didn't know they grew on stalks. Certainly didn't think I would learn about sprout stalks in New York. But then again, nothing surprises me. It was a fantastic day in the city of wonder.