train not running

Last time, New York was aglow.  But Rich's surgery was a week before the holiday season, and everywhere there was the excitement of something better coming, even if we know that such excitement folds and collapses.

Still. I expected something different.

Last time, Rich and I walked through Grand Central Terminal where we saw the train show and I pointed out, look! there's the QT train from the '70s, raw and fresh in sound and appearance.

Last time, we walked to Bryant Park, taking in the holiday kiosks selling pet T-shirts and happy Buddhas, and the skating rink where people did what I never could -- smiling, too.

That was last time.

This time, Rich rested in the room while I went to the train show, but -- where was my QT?  Not running.  Which, in truth, is closer to reality.  In the '70s, much of New York wasn't functioning.  But who wants to remember that?

This time, the kiosks were gone, holiday sales over, Buddhas moving on to the Chinese New Year festivities.  Some skaters still circled cooly, but many reminded me of my own gravity-susceptible attempts.

I returned to the room.  It wasn't the same, I say.

Change is inevitable, exciting, normal.  Except when the trains stop running.

Candace