My pulse was fluttering, my heart was throbbing, my throat felt tight with excitement. I had longed for these old feelings to return -- but this time they weren't roused by a longed-for beau come into sight, rather it was Manhattan by night.
Yes, it was the stirrings that only the most beloved can awaken in us and undoubtedly I was madly, passionately and completely in love with my Man - my Man-hattan that is.
I was winging my way home via JetBlue into an always exciting landing at LaGuardia. The clouds that had been hanging around for days had cleared and suddenly there appeared - like the extravagant finale of a Broadway show - the most bejeweled vision of my city. And for the first time from the air I saw the Freedom Tower, completed and stunning. I'll risk using a term bandied about too freely but fitting on this occasion: it was magical.
When we first broke through the clouds, the building lights, street lights, the lights from cars speeding along the roadways, spread out in the darkness like gold and diamond necklaces spilled from a treasure chest. I glanced at my seat mate; she was plugged in and oblivious - so were the other passengers that I could see. I wanted to share this spectacular sight, I wanted them to appreciate my beloved, to acknowledge the beauty, to nod in agreement -- but everyone was otherwise engaged. And so I settled in to enjoy every morsel of the sight, not even wanting to blink. And then it occurred to me that it is much better to be alone and mellow with these feelings of love. After all, they'll only last until we touchdown and I scramble to get to the front of the taxi line.
A post script to this post: The next morning on the news, I heard that the city is asking for the dimming or shutting down of lights when buildings are not occupied or in use. If that goes through, this one spectacular homecoming will stand out lighter and brighter than ever.
Yes, it was the stirrings that only the most beloved can awaken in us and undoubtedly I was madly, passionately and completely in love with my Man - my Man-hattan that is.
I was winging my way home via JetBlue into an always exciting landing at LaGuardia. The clouds that had been hanging around for days had cleared and suddenly there appeared - like the extravagant finale of a Broadway show - the most bejeweled vision of my city. And for the first time from the air I saw the Freedom Tower, completed and stunning. I'll risk using a term bandied about too freely but fitting on this occasion: it was magical.
When we first broke through the clouds, the building lights, street lights, the lights from cars speeding along the roadways, spread out in the darkness like gold and diamond necklaces spilled from a treasure chest. I glanced at my seat mate; she was plugged in and oblivious - so were the other passengers that I could see. I wanted to share this spectacular sight, I wanted them to appreciate my beloved, to acknowledge the beauty, to nod in agreement -- but everyone was otherwise engaged. And so I settled in to enjoy every morsel of the sight, not even wanting to blink. And then it occurred to me that it is much better to be alone and mellow with these feelings of love. After all, they'll only last until we touchdown and I scramble to get to the front of the taxi line.
A post script to this post: The next morning on the news, I heard that the city is asking for the dimming or shutting down of lights when buildings are not occupied or in use. If that goes through, this one spectacular homecoming will stand out lighter and brighter than ever.