First Day in New York

 First day in New York.

Well, no, that's not true. I got back yesterday. So, first full day in New York I suppose.

Water bottle leaked all over the comforter. I'm under it. No sheets on the bed yet, but I have a bed. A pillow. A headache.

The sun burns through the window. No curtains yet. No energy. Drove only a few hours yesterday to get here. Pulled up, unpacked the entirety of the truck. Truck to stoop. Stoop to the second floor. Up, down, up down. An hour later and I am near collapse and hunched over in the shower. Back hurts. Legs hurt. The job's done. So am I. 

Barb lives downstairs and is a close friend. I get dressed, I head downstairs and the welcome wagon rolls out. I'm thankful for it, don't get me wrong, but I am tired. Five days of driving, packing, unpacking, those fucking stairs over and over. I have nearly no money for groceries so I am rationing as much as I can. I feel weak. Barb takes me to a bar. Buys me a glass of wine. Then to a Korean place. I get chicken and rice. It's not expensive and the food is good. Then she takes me to another bar. Another glass of wine. Then back to the house. A fire in the backyard. Friends. Talking. 

I feel good. I feel welcome and loved. 

I'm thankful.

I wake up with a headache under a wet comforter with the sun burning through the window. I pull the comforter over my face, kick the now empty water bottle off and into the living room and stare blankly, trying to rearrange the flashes of memory from the night before but I don't feel guilt or shame and I remember that I'm just old and a couple of glasses of wine just fuck me up now. I'm old. 

Eventually I roll out of bed. I'm still in my clothes from yesterday. I don't know where my phone is. My legs don't want to work. Fuckin stairs.

I piss. I find the box with the coffee maker. Set it up, put coffee on. While I was unpacking the day before a friend came and dropped off a pizza, some eggs, and a couple burritos as a welcome gift, and it was a welcome gift. I put the pizza in the oven. Wait for the coffee. Dig around in a box looking for a curtain and eventually tack it up over the bedroom window. That'll do for now. 

I'm grateful. I'm lucky. I'm loved. The thought of it makes me emotional, but what doesn't these days? 

I stare into the living room in disarray. There's something about a fresh apartment. Before you make it your own. A fresh beginning. A fresh life. Empty walls and second chances. 

When the coffee is done I sit at the table and drink a cup. When the pizza's done I remember I don't have an oven mitt or a cutting board. I improvise. I drag it out with a spatula. The box it came in is the cutting board.

I have my coffee and eat the pizza for breakfast and I think about how thankful I am. 

How lucky I am.

How loved.