you see it and for a moment you want it

Walking home down West Broadway last night, I did my usual survey of the life going on above my head. Across the street, above old warehouses and stores, in "well lit rooms," rows and rows of bookshelves, solitary pieces of art, and small gardens beckoned me. High ceilings, impressive spaces made me want that life myself. To hear the sounds of what appeared to me to be a lonely pianist only made me want it all even more. I remember thinking how comfortable it must be to live like that.

You see it and for a moment you want it.

Crossing over Canal and nearly getting run over by a crazy reckless driver, tripping my way in my K Jacques across Tribeca Park, I am back in the real world. I recall in my mind that the spaces I saw were big, but empty. The pianist was playing Beethoven, and before he moved onto his next piece, he was just ending Sonata 14 in C Sharp Minor.

After a long day spent at the market with good company, then working, and then throughout it all, contemplating and absorbing the changes that are about to take place in my life, I made my way back to the fourth floor of my own apartment. Home to three calm, happy roommates and to rooms that screamed warmth. A home, yes.

You see it and for a moment you want it. Who doesn't?

I am so lucky.