Every spring, everyone's hearts melt along with the snow. People are happy to be alive again. And people feel alive again. And I am reminded of one particular attribute of this great town and it is the "we're all in this together" feeling we share. This pertains to many things, one of which (no surprise), is the weather. We all have our own coping strategies. Some people go someplace warm. Some people hole up and blog their confessions. Others bake up a storm. Most, if not all, go slightly insane. But when the weather turns, we are all drawn to it like magnet flies to a magnetic flame.
This week it hit 60 degrees and there was sparkly sunshine everywhere. I love that initial break of the weather because it's that precious time when people are happy, almost giddy, stopping just short of whistling Zip-a-dee-doo-dah & high-fiving the mailman, and we share glances that could equate a conversation like this:
i'm SO glad the spring is coming, aren't you?
yes, I couldn't take one more day of the cold
i swear if it snows again i'll plunge myself into the gowanus
for real. hey, i like your jacket.
thanks, your baby's cute.
i know, right?
These are meaningful interactions, taking place on the cusp of the season change. It's the golden moment before people forget how happy they are about the sun and beautiful spring and start disgruntling about their favorite things to disgruntle. We love to be out with the masses to share these moments. I do. It's an attribute of the city that makes it unique. I was talking with a friend the other day about suburbia vs. city life and the constant battle of "do we move or do we stay?" as city living gets harder and harder with each passing day/child. (she has 3) We even discussed how we'd maybe settle for living in a tiny town outside a big city. Some old quaint village perhaps (because we live in 1877). She said, "But even then, i visited one once north of here and stayed with friends and people don't leave their houses. We went out and no one was outside. It was weird! I think I would really miss that."
And it's true. The human interaction is why we love it here, along with the fun things to see & do, the museums to remind us of important things, and the glorious glorious food, etc etc etc. We love it here and we hate it here and we love to hate it here. That is how it is. Anyone living here for a decent chunk of time will tell you this. When i was out today, exchanging happy glances with fellow passersby, I reflected on this & the chat with my friend, and how it is different. Growing up my family used to vacation to Lake Powell. We'd find a secluded beach and hope to high heaven no one would come want to be friendly neighbors. We would send out scouts, and make someone spread out rafts and chairs and stake out the beach while the slow-going houseboat made its way there. Seriously we were beach nazis and would glare and snarl at people if they got too close. Now, I still think i'd prefer a secluded family vacation at LP. But i can understand why people, especially those used to a more shoulder-rubbing way of life, wouldn't mind or would even seek out some new friends on their trip. I observed this as a change of view or perspective. It was interesting.
So, on this eve of the equinox, i wish us a happy transition. May our budding souls blossom with every spring in our step & whistle on our face.