I remember setting foot unchaperoned in NYC for the first time as a resident. WOW… what a tremendously liberated feeling! I felt as if my insides were about to explode and cast glitter and sparkle and everything hopeful, youthful and divine from my spirit right there onto the sparkly pavement of Park Avenue.
I do recall a particular walk down Park toward Union Square when I realized that the streets were literally glittering… as if millions of Southern fireflies had escorted me from my quaint, comfortable family cattle farm in NC to the lively streets of the Big Apple. It appeared in that moment as if those homegrown fireflies had embedded themselves right there in the asphalt as a sort of personal yellow brick road… NYC-style. In that flash of time, I truly felt as if the world and my place in it were magnificent, living, breathing creatures with more possibility than my country bumpkin imagination could seem to scoop into it’s meager depth and breadth.
It was a moment that, obviously, has stuck with me.
I learned during that Big Apple summer that the asphalt used in their streets was supplemented with recycled glass. It is known as glassphalt. I was reminded of this same walk, and many more along the streets of NYC, this past weekend as I visited the local recycling bins to deliver my used glass jars and bottles. As I released each container into a symphony of cymbal clashes and percussion, those crystal pathways of my youth soared up to greet me with a flood of nostalgia and reverence.
I find myself nowadays, in midlife, searching for that same sense of possibility, wander and unsophistication as when I first experienced that big city on my own. It no longer requires such a giant change in scenery, zip codes and attitudes. I find that my present moments of fortuity and gratitude can quite nicely be found in everyday minutes and seconds spent in familiar surroundings. All it takes is a little shift in perspective and the desire to see the world as it is meant to be seen.
Clear.
Unadulterated.
Beautiful.
What distant moments have you relived lately? To where did they carry you? What long-ago forgotten feeling did they rekindle? The mere stickiness of the memory in our psyche suggests that even the smallest of events can be life changing. Don’t you think?
Feel free to sound off on yours below. I would love to read them!
Love & Light
soulbeams 
Thank you for sharing your memory, and bringing the flame close to a dear old memory of mine… Not of NYC, but of Venice. It is amazing the effect illumination has on the world. It is more wondrous when that same illumination is applied to the residents of that world, particularly when so much is cast in darkness. I remember candelabra and pigeons and narrow alleys to nowhere. I remember a kiss and a smile, both forbidden by some rule or another. I remember rebellion and heartache and rebirth, under storm clouds by San Marco plaza… I remember young love, and it was good. Thank you for this post!
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I am honored that my post sent you into such a trove of wondrous memories. Your brief share hints at a lifetime of feelings lived and breathed in the heart of a city who cloaks her visitors in enchantment and passion with every turn. I hope your young heart still seeks the thrill and adventure, the passion and virility. We are only as old as we think we are! Cheers 🙂
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