Summer

Summer has officially begun here in the city for me. See, part of living here just the two of us has meant we've been able to develop traditions all our own - and this makes me very very happy.

One of those traditions is dancing every summer - and not just any dancing, but dancing outside in the plaza of Lincoln Center at their Midsummer Night Swing. It's absolutely fabulous.

On MsNS nights, Sam meets me in the plaza of my work and we walk to Lincoln Center, where we take lessons on some sort of specific dance (usually some kind of swing, but this year we're going to the western as well as the Irish nights) and then a band plays for two hours. I can't tell you how wonderful it is. Then, on the TRULY great nights, we stop at a diner on the way home and have dinner. It's brilliant, have I mentioned? And it defines summer in the city for me, as much if not more than cherry-dipped vanilla cones from Mr. Softie. Which is saying a lot.

Last week, as we walked home, Sam pointed out stars in the sky. Planets, probably he said. But sparkles in the sky nonetheless. And he commented that, well, you CAN see stars in the city. And we both stopped right there and looked up for a moment. And though it was fleeting, it felt nice. And important. And something I'll remember for a long time. Us, all dressed up and sweaty and tired from dancing the night away - standing hand in hand on the sidewalk looking at the sky in our city. Looking at the stars. One of the many things people tell you won't get once you come here.

Sometimes I feel that way about my life. How it's all that moment, filled with luck and love and happiness. Filled with all my dreams right here at my feet - all the things people tell you can't have all at once. Yet, here I am - holding hands with the one I love, where I love, doing what I love.

Sometimes the best thing you can do is just stop in the middle of it all and look up . . .while all the too good to be trueness just spins out all around you.