Reborn on the 4th of July

Fourth of July.  5:45 AM.  Virginie and I are the only two awake this morning so we quickly get dressed and head out on a search for Dunkin Donuts.  While there are many wonderful things to eat in this city, Lily misses Dunkin Donuts the most.  She is, after all, almost 4 years old.  We left the Plaza and headed east.  I figured, Lexington or Third Avenue would be the best bet with the real estate on the other avenues a little too high end for a DD.  The walk was glorious and restorative.  There were very few people on the street as it was the 4th of July and most people, if not out of the city already, were prepping for a wild afternoon and evening of fun, barbecuing, drinking, and fireworks in celebration of our independence. 


New York is so beautiful at this time of day.  I have always loved New York in the early morning hours before all the hustle and hub bub began.  Virginie and I shared this joy on this particular morning, something she has not had the pleasure of experiencing as she was a newborn when we left.  She hasn't ridden in the stroller so much in her life and it is fantastic for her!  Watching the buildings, sculpture, beautiful architecture and city landscape is a new thrill for her eyes and it warmed the heart to share it with her. 


We found our Dunkin Donuts on Lexington and 54th Street and got Lily's donuts and an iced coffee for Mommy.  As we walked back to the Plaza, the sun began to rise above the tallest of buildings and shine down on me.  I feel new again here.  Happy to be alive.  I love for my kids to see me smiling, content, in my element.  I feel, at least I hope, that the old me has been reborn and I will be able to take this energy with me back to Barbados for our final year there.  If not, I will have no choice but to return more frequently.  To regenerate.  To rejuvenate.  And endure.

(c) copyright 2010. Citymominthejungle

City Mom in the city

Driving on the Van Wyck on our way to the Plaza, I got tears in my eyes.  The noise, the smell, the traffic and I was home.  After a crazy day of travel that started with a 5:25 am wake up call and ended with Didier and I eating sandwiches and other yummy snacks in an upgraded suite at the Plaza Hotel, we were all relieved to rest our heads on sheets so soft and comfy.  I said it felt like snoozing on a cupcake. 


Of course we did not experience New York like this when we were living here, but the good stuff we remember came flooding back immediately.  I love to see people walking and running and laughing and smiling in the streets at any time of day.  Eating breakfast at le Pain Quotidien, we watched a group of Asian store owners chat while smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee.  There were jogging mommies and daddies and young people and old; Hasidim running to synagogue; picnicking hipsters; people shopping, carrying fresh bread, flowers, fruit.  Tourists, tourists, tourists, a group to which we do not feel we belong even though we do not technically still live here, were all over the place waving American flags.  We walked.  For miles.  Popped into stores and window shopped and checked out sales.  Watched the horses at 59th Street along the southern edge of Central Park and I promised Lily a ride in a pedicab until I saw what they are now charging for this. 


I bought something from every aisle in Duane Reade and then went back again in the evening for more.  I shopped discount stores and modeled $10 dresses for Didier while the girls slept in a borrowed double stroller.  We checked out the Food Hall at the Plaza and the new and old retail shops as well.  Still lots on sale and not too many customers.  A gorgeous dolphin blue lambskin bag from MCM was turned down (yes, turned down by a bag whore like myself) when I realized that the humidity in Barbados would destroy it and I could not live with that.  We were greeted by doormen, the concierge, housekeeping staff, wait and kitchen staff, reception staff with respect and consideration.  Didier was humbled by the attention paid him.  I was grateful.  Barbados is so outside what we know and what knows us too, that the lives we led before our guest appearance there are rarely discussed.  I think it would be too painful anyway.  In Barbados, we are in exile.  In New York, we are home.

(c)copyright 2010. Citymominthejungle