Gratitude for Commuting

The best part of leaving home is coming home. Happy Thanksgiving.

Ben (rare sighting) and I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. <3

Sharing an 89 word prose poem I submitted to the New York Times for their Tiny Stories of Gratitude feature today. They didn’t run my love letter to home—New York City, Inwood, the A train, and my home with Ben, Gertrude and Earnestine (womp womp)—but I am grateful for the prompt.

I’d love to hear what you feel gratitude toward today and would like to thank you for taking time to read my words here over the past few years. Your support means so much. Wishing you a very Happy Thanksgiving, dear ones.

Commute

I thought I missed the A train. Plastic yellow seats. Subway singers. Southbound rumble drumbeat signaling Columbus Circle. No looking up, I knew the station. But it was the walk home after the jostle of turnstile, jockeying for seat, jingle of keys at the bottom of bag, winding through the Shangri-la of Inwood at the top of the island, top of the hill, sun setting over the Cloisters, you and me eating Chinese food on the couch with the cat and dog, remembering what a beautiful day it’s been.