I Remember New York City

I remember seeing New York City for the first time. It was the summer of 76 and we were there with Aunt Shelly. She was young and hip and fabulous and she reminded me of Mary Tyler Moore. She was wearing beige pumps and a powdered blue skirt that skimmed her knees. She tied her hair back with a gold scarf which made her look more exciting. And she told stories about traveling to exotic places like Africa and Brazil. She was so different from Mom who, in her pressed navy shorts and clean white tennis shoes, dressed for comfort, not fashion and who had never been on an airplane to anywhere.

We made our way uptown on foot, pushing past businessmen with blue suits and black cases and beautiful women in long skirts and colorful blouses carrying overized purses. I had never seen so many people in one place before and I never thought that there could be this many cars and streets and buildings and stop lights and shops all crammed together like a million pebbles pressed against each other in a milk jug. I admired and hated it all at once and finally had to close my eyes because it hurt too much to see and hear and feel everything that ever existed screaming for my attention all at the same time.

We ate lunch served from a street vendor selling hot dogs and sat on the edge of a fountain. I dripped ketchup and mustard on my shirt and Tina spilled her soda. Theresa didn't drip or spill. She never did. Then Mom scolded us. But she found a napkin to help clean my shirt and she shared her drink with Tina. And I thought it was so exciting that city people ate hot dogs on street corners instead of at the supper table or at backyard barbeques like normal people.

After we finished eating, Aunt Shelly took us to see the World Trade Center. I had never conceived that anything could be so gigantic. Looking up at it made me dizzy so I turned my eyes to the pavement and tried not to think about the enormous monument towering above me.

I was even more frightened to board the elevator that would rocket us to the top in less than a minute. But I had no choice except to follow the steps of my family lest I be swept away in the sea of people below. My ears popped and butterflies danced in my belly as we were whisked from the ground floor. I fidgeted and fretted because I felt so closed in and more than anything, I wanted to get out of the little closet and run around in a wide open space filled with daisies and clover.

When we finally reached the top, it seemed like a hundred years before the doors slid open. Then, as I finally looked out on the city from the largest building in the country I couldn't believe how amazed and exhilarated and frightened I felt to be standing on the top of the world. But all I wanted to do was get my feet back on the ground as soon as possible because the wind was blowing and the building was swaying like a blade of grass. It always blew like this so high up, Aunt Shelly explained. But I didn't care.

So Mom took me back down to the lobby where we sat on the floor and waited silently for a million years until the rest of our crew had their fill of the glorious sites. Maybe when I grew up I would go back and I'd feel different about it.

But when I grew up, it would be too late, the building would be gone.