You’ll Be My Porch Swing Memories
Hey, New York.
It’s me again – The Tiny Dancer. We’ve had another six months together, which now puts me at 2.5 years living here. As you know, I do a fun recap every six months so that one day when I’m sitting on a porch swing with a glass of sweet tea and can’t remember my right hand from my left, I can read through these writings and reminisce about all the crazy moments we shared.
These past months have again been quite special. I live-tweeted from backstage at the Bessie’s, talking to Wendy Whelan about her retirement from NYCB only days after it occurred. I sat in the audience as Idina Menzel forgot the lyrics to her song, stopped the show to laugh at herself for five minutes, then picked up where she left off and killed the rest of it. I worked from home and teleconferenced into meetings when the city shut down for a blizzard that didn’t come. I danced in a gorgeous church near Columbus Circle as the “living art” during an art installation. I hosted my parents for Thanksgiving for the first time, and I even cleaned the turkey. (I may or may not have accidentally smacked my mom in the face with a feather.) I watched the Bryant Park tree come to life with lights and music and Christmas cheer. I saw a concert in Radio City, and I co-hosted our second annual Oscars party. I saw stunning Broadway performances by James Earl Jones, Matthew Broderick, and Martin Short. I did a week-long dance intensive that brought so much joy to my soul, it was like a cheesy love song. I knitted half a blanket, and I registered for kickboxing classes. I made new friends and delved deeper into the friendships I already had, amazed at how each person has influenced my life in such a short period of time. I said “See ya later” to three precious Australian kids I babysat for almost my entire NYC life thus far, and I saw the Mariinsky Ballet perform “Swan Lake.” I bought a cupcake out of a cupcake ATM. I was joined by many friends for my 2nd Alzheimer’s Walk in NYC – friends who never met Meemaw but came to walk in her memory because they knew it meant a great deal to me. I got to listen to amazing artist debates, and I became a huge fan of my crockpot and Thai delivery.
And just last night, as I sat nestled in “The Tomb” of the Met Museum, looking out at a snow-covered E84th Street, surrounded by Egyptian artifacts and listening to one of the greatest jazz musicians of today, I realized that I never could’ve guessed that I would end up in this exact moment. I chose a life filled with uncertainties, and that can be draining and fulfilling at the same time. It’s part of the rush – not knowing what’s next. It’s part of the heartache – not knowing what’s next. Those 5-year plans they tell you to make just go out the window for me. I can give you a skeleton of an idea, but I cannot give you concrete milestones. Because I know my dream comes in a myriad of shapes and sizes; it comes in packages big and small. There is no one-way street to get to the end. There is no end, for that matter.
Maybe this sounds like gibberish, but I bet you understand exactly what I’m saying, don’t you New York? You’re the king of opportunities and last-minute changes; you keep us on our toes.
I like talking to you, New York. You know my biggest dreams and my biggest fears. You’ve watched me fail and succeed and laugh at it all. And you gently remind me why you are a magnificent city on a cool wintry day, when the sun sparkles off your limbs and the hustle of the people creates a whirlwind of tangible energy.
Thanks for listening once again, my dear friend. Here’s to much more.
The Tiny Dancer