A good day in New York is better than a good day anywhere else in the world. I say that blindly, because well I haven’t been everywhere else in the world. However, based on my limited experience I stand by my statement. I had a pretty amazing Sunday a couple of weeks ago.
I had some extra coins in my pocket (a rarity) and decided that since my edges were perfectly laid, and my brows were evenly filled I would treat myself to a buttermilk biscuit from this cute cafe near my house. Cafe Madeline is typically overrun with hipster families that reassure me I’m not ready for motherhood albeit in a gentrified neighborhood in Brooklyn. As soon as I stepped in the door to place my order, my theme song Spottieottiedopalicious blared out of the speakers and I just knew it was going to be a good day. I headed to church and was actually able to sit in the front which is odd because my church stays packed for all services at every location. Again, this is shaping up to be an amazing day.
Following church I had some time to kill before meeting up with some friends for bruch. Their brunch, not mine. I was just tagging along for decoration and for the music. I heard a lot of commotion and being the
nosey inquisitive girl that I am I followed it and stumbled upon the Pride parade. It was such an amazing sight. All of these families and people of different races gathered together to celebrate not only being out and proud, but that they can now legally be married. I danced with some strangers to Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody and collected a souvenir of anal lubricant (it was the only thing I could catch in the crowd so relax) until I got the call from my friends to head to the brunch spot.
I arrived at the brunch spot first as usual, and next thing I know there were bottomless mimosas and bellini’s, lots of dancing, and plans were made to hit the next spot. We made our way to the rooftop of a hotel that I don’t recall the name of and partied more while looking out over the skyline. The night was warm but breezy and the air was light and fun, filled with laughter, friends, and celebration. After getting more food to soak up the abundance of champagne, I parted ways with my friends and headed back to Brooklyn on the Q train. For some reason I started to feel sad. It was like coming down from a high. I thought about the fact that I had to go home to an empty studio apartment with no one to drunk text. Then I remembered that it was Sunday and I had to go back to a job that I didn’t even know if I would still have in a week’s time, and I started to sink. The reality of my stage in life hit me like a ton of bricks and suddenly the day didn’t feel that great anymore. I count myself lucky that I have a lot of friends. I mean truly I do. I have at least two people that I can call for any kind of situation I may find myself in, yet I often find myself alone with my thoughts. Despite their numbers, those people cannot be with me 24/7 and after all of the distractions are gone, we are often left to face ourselves. The true us. The us we may inadvertently hide from everyone else.
I turned my music off because in my impending sadness there was nothing I wanted to hear really. All of a sudden the man sitting next to me started to whistle the most beautiful tune. I found myself rocking to it and as we crossed the Manhattan Bridge, I asked him what song it was. “Oh this is a very old German love song,” he said with a heavy accent and a kind smile. “What are the words? It’s so pretty?” I asked. His boyfriend encouraged him to sing it for me, so he did. His voice was surprisingly like Frank Sinatra’s. I would’ve been a bit embarrassed had it not been for the overindulgence of champagne from earlier. He told me what the song meant and I was overwhelmed by the sentiment of the lyrics. We exchanged pleasantries of where are you from, are you guys visiting, how do you like the city? “New York is really something. Everything is here.” His boyfriend wrote the lyrics in German on a receipt and handed them to me. “It’s been a very long time since someone has said anything like this to me,” I said letting out a nervous laugh which probably revealed the truth in my statement. Just as the train slowed down for their stop, he put his hand on mine and said,”you’re a beautiful girl, someone will feel this way about you soon. When you meet him teach him this song and he will sing it to you.” We waved goodbye. I rushed home to google the song and the words are still so captivating to me even in my sober mind. Maybe that was God’s way of saying “chin up girl.”
“You are my heart’s delight,
And where you are, I long to be
You make my darkness bright,
When like a star you shine on me
Shine, then, my whole life through
Your life divine bids me hope anew
That dreams of mine may at last come true
And I shall hear you whisper,
“I love you.”