west end ave / 11th ave / 22nd st / 5th ave / 59th st

13.73 miles

the oceans inside of me threatened to spill over at multiple points on this walk. (ignore the melodrama, my english professor has compelled me try to write more metaphorically).

it had been too long since my last walk, and i felt it in my body. there was work to be done that did not get done, but walking and think-not-thinking was healing. even with just those first few steps i could feel the burden on my shoulders lighten, and 50 blocks further my mind was lighter too.

i often wish that the ups and downs of my rollercoaster would not so profoundly move me, that my mind could be more level, and i would not be thrown into a fit by a difficult assignment or a tension in a friendship or something i said that i regret now. but my mind fixates easily, and i cannot see to the next day, let alone farther into the future. i forget that my rollercoaster is but one in this world, and a serene one at that. applying to grad school is a privilege of so few. my college education has been so precious. my stressors are relatively miniscule.

this pandemic has taken the lives, ruined the lives, of so many in this country. it continues to creep closer and closer into my being. i can feel it settling in, settled. i freaked out the other night because my friend did not text me when she arrived home, a mere handful of subway stops from me, did not answer my texts inquiring whether she had safely made it back. she had simply been off her phone. anxiety is easily triggered in my limbs during this fragile climate.

as i have said before, the walking forces me to remember that i am small and this world is big, full of immense pain but also great joy and wonder. there are fewer people sleeping on the streets, hopefully because more are in shelters as the weather turns icy, but the few whom i witness— i am more pained than usual.

as if i had planned it, my 100th mile occurred right at the rockefeller tree and the glorious saks fifth christmas light extravaganza. watching the light show and listening to christmas music, alone in a crowd of awe, it did feel quite extraordinary. what’s a little commercial christmas cheer to brighten up your evening?

i am homesick this week, mostly for the warmth of my mother and a hug from my littlest brother, but really for all of the comfort that comes from being with family. i am easily reflective these days, and this semester has been like none other. it has been the most solitary period of my life. i have never spent more time so alone, despite the constant chatter of texts and emails and distractions.

i was grateful to be here in new york, still am so grateful to be here and to go in to lab most days. yet i long for home. when i am home i know that i will long for here. i yearn to live in the moment but i am forever longing to be where i am not. i suppose that is the privilege of loving two homes so dearly.

I think the worst thing that ever happened to me was leaving home— because I miss it like you’d never believe, and then I go away from this place and I miss here too. I’m scared I’m going to spend the rest of my life in a state of yearning, regardless of where I am.
melina marchetta, the piper’s son

the sights: christmas trees tied onto cars, carried by couples, lining the streets; gloves and beanies and scarves, the first real cold day; amazon delivery cart pushers; miles davis way; children of the city, strolling in clumps; a woman who was still wearing an i voted sticker; bare legs in 32 F / 0 C weather; grandiose apartment buildings along west end ave that turned into silvery skyscrapers around 60th; car dealerships, more car dealerships; photographers waiting outside of a brownstone; blm virtue signaling in many forms; a man eating by using a ripped piece of his takeout container as a spoon; tourists pretzels hot dogs lines; captain america and the grinch strolling 5th ave, conversing in fast spanish.

i came across perhaps the coolest store i have ever been inside: printed matter, inc. a store i never would have encountered except for on this walk, because it is way out on the east edge of this city in the middle of nowhere. so cool that they had books that weren’t shaped like books. so cool that the employees were wearing handmade clothes and did not acknowledge me when i entered. i bought a book on casein (proteins and cheese? my passion) that had literal holes in it.

there is a corner, 41st and 11th ave, where there is a giant block of flat nothingness, where one can witness the rapid construction on the east side of the city and stare at the empire state building and the established skyline. it is stark and concrete, yet somehow a little magical.

i passed corners i have stopped on, restaurants i have eaten in, the bus stop i waited at to go to boston. i remember walking down 5th ave a year ago to see the lights, too. nostalgia is a little magical, too.

i ended my walk along the south end of central park. a placid horse stared at me as i walked by. the pond twinkled in the lamplight seductively. the sidewalk was empty and the air was dark but gentle. if i were a man, i would have meandered through the darkened paths of the park, but alas.