“So, I Planned a Trip. . . “

Last month I wrote about a minor emotional breakdown I experienced when I began writing down Charlie’s new soccer schedule and saw, in black and white, the way our lives would change with junior high. If you’ve spent any amount of time reading here, you know that I quite easily fall prey to my emotional whims. The pendulum from joy to sadness swings so swiftly, a strained neck is inevitable if you watch the back and forth for too long. While some might think such whims are diagnosable, I think I’m qualified enough to say that this is just something called Motherhood and I plan to continue to feel it all until the end of my days.

My family is certainly happy to know this.

Anyway, a day or two after closing my tear-stained calendar I had found the calm in the midst of my stormy emotions and began swallowing the truth of our new reality. On one particular evening, I was standing in the kitchen piling spinach into a pan and slicing oranges when Chad walked in from work. We chatted for a bit while I finished dinner and I noticed that Chad seemed to be lingering in the kitchen a bit longer than normal. Rather than rushing to do this or that, he leaned against the countertop and let the silence sit between us. After a few moments  he finally spoke up. . .

So. . . . I planned a trip for us.

(pause.)

. . . for our anniversary.

(pause)

. . . to New York.

(pause)

. . . but now I’m not sure we should go, given your distress with our lack of time this summer.

I took in this bit of information and asked a couple more (or 75-ish) questions. Chad told me about a trip that he had planned MONTHS ago.
Childcare: Done.
Flights: Done.
Hotel: Done.

His plan was to keep his secret until the last minute, tell us to pack our bags, drop the kids off, and away we would go.

Of course, my “Mom-breakdown” ruined it all. Well, my breakdown and the extra school days added to the end of the school year making it a bit harder on the kids.

*******
Chad and I didn’t discuss the trip too much that week. We went on with life, no doubt, thinking about it independently–him not wanting to stress me out, me not wanting to make a decision. Several days later, I finally broke the NYC-silence and asked, so are we going to go?

I don’t think so, he said. There is just too much going on.

{This is when I get really rational.}

What?! I said in my best angry-annoyed-wife voice. You’re just deciding that? No discussion? I feel like you’re not even fighting for it!

{He’s such a lucky man, isn’t he? God-forbid I just say what I want after 17 years of marriage.}

My kind-ever-patient husband didn’t miss a beat, I want to go, he said, I just don’t want to stress anyone out.

********

In the end, we decided that if we were sitting at a soccer game on our anniversary, knowing we could be in New York, we would have wish we’d taken the trip. In the end, we knew we I was making this far more complicated than it needed to be. 

I just made Chad promise me one thing: promise to get us back here safely? 

(No pressure.)

*******

So we went. Again. Back to NYC because we love it.

We arrived on a chilly, rainy morning. After dropping our bags into our room, we ventured out onto the streets as we always do. We log miles and miles visiting familiar sites and discovering new ones.

On this particular trip, Chad was a man on a mission and he headed directly to the Amish Market.

We had passed this little market on our way to the airport a couple of times, but never stopped in. Because, why would we? We see enough cheese in our own Amish community.

Ummmm, we live in Amish Country–do we have to go see Amish cheese in New York City?
I just want to see it, he told me.

So, we walked in, did a loop through the aisles, called their bluff–no Amish cuisine, according to our standards.

We moved on.

 

The very first time we visited New York City, it was was raining. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was late October and there was a chill in the air. Thick clouds seemed to settle on everything. I have so much nostalgia when I think about the city in the rain. Seeing the the people, the buildings, the buzz, the skyline, the lights–all of it–with a light mist made it all that much more magical. It was much the same this time. The fog, the hustle, the raindrops falling, a blanket of umbrellas. It’s more than something I see, it’s something I experience.

People have asked us why we keep going back. There’s a big wide world out there, they say, why do you keep going back to NYC?

Sure, it helps that it’s a one hour trip by plane. Each time we are given a great experience without having to leave our little people for too long. It’s more than that, though.

Chad and I know we’ve barely scratched the surface of New York City. We’ve walked miles and miles around the city and yet, still, there is so much more to see. During this trip alone, we logged nearly 50 miles on foot and as we were driving out of the city we still found ourselves saying, we didn’t make it to x, y, z. . .

There is something about the city that is so alive and real and vibrant. As the song says, “there’s nothing you can’t do”. (Thank you, Alicia Keys.)

The sights and the sounds are amazing. But for me, the pull has always been the people. The faces. The stories that I don’t know. The anonymity of the people all around me. We walk alongside people from all walks of life. Different stories, races, experiences, histories, lifestyles, faiths, cultures. As we walk by we hear snippets of stories being told, conversations being had, problems being shared, joys being revealed. The people, the beautiful array of people always pulls me in. The lure of the people keep drawing me back.

As we walk among them I wonder who they are. I wonder about their stories. I wonder if they are visiting like us or if they are headed to work, school, or to coffee with a friend. I feel a sense of awe at the people who make a life there. Who navigate the streets every day. Who have figured it out. Who are working it out.

For a time, I have left our tiny community. I feel a part of something so different that our normal day to day. I stand back and take it in. While so many are watching the skyline, or lost in a world inside their earbuds, or caught up with conversation with a companion I am left in awe of how similar we are to each other. So many voices I hear, I don’t understand. But I see smiles and laughter. I see anger on faces or awe and wonder frozen on faces. I see frustration and stress. I see love and joy. And in those moments it all seems so clear–at our core, we are more alike than we are different.

As our days in New York wrap up, we board a plane and watch as the skyline we love gets smaller and smaller. Our legs are tired but our hearts are full. We’ve seen a lot, but there is still so much more to see. . .

. . . next time.