(Crappy photo courtesy of low light unfriendly iPhone)
Greetings from The Big Apple! As I mentioned the other day, this weekend I had the opportunity to take the girls with me to a work event out of town. It’s our first girl’s weekend and we couldn’t be more excited!
The ride down was pretty uneventful. It’s only four hours from Boston to NYC. The girls had no complaints other than in their opinion the state of Rhode Island is misnamed.
Shannon stated that there is more road than island and that the state should simply be called Road. Hard to argue with that logic.
I have to admit, I had some anxiety on the way down. Up til July 5th of last year, I’ve been pretty fearless in my life. Driving to NYC has never been an issue. Matter of fact, other than my fear of flying, I’ve had no qualms traveling anywhere up until my accident.
Now, I don’t have any fears for myself, mind you. It’s my kids. I have this strange anxiety now that something will happen to my children. I know it makes zero sense, but ever since the accident I have a paranoia that my kids will have an accident. Odd, I know.
But we got here safely, and that’s all that matters.
This is the view from my hotel window. As I type this post, the girls are sleeping by my side. They haven’t seen much of the city yet, as we arrived in the evening. But I’m anticipating their reaction to a city that I love so very much.
As a child, my Father took me to New York. He introduced me to The Russian Tea Room, took me skating at Rockefeller Center and showed me the wonders of Central Park. These are some of the happiest memories I have with my Dad.
He just seemed so worldly to me. So sophisticated and knowledgeable on all things. He could even parallel park in this city. And that is a feat.
Now I’m here with my own daughters. I get to show them this magical place. Introduce them to a proper bagel. Walk them through Central Park and marvel at the beauty. Take them to their first Broadway show. (Thank God for half price tickets) Watch their expressions when they take their first taxi ride. (oy)
What will they think? How much of it will stick? Will it be as precious to them as it was to me?
Perhaps they are too young. Eight and nine years of age is a little young to take in such a large city.
Those of you who are long time readers know that we have a tradition in our family to take the kids to NYC to celebrate their thirteenth birthdays.
We did that for Michael and Aidan, and we planned to do it for the girls too. But ever since the accident, I no longer believe that tomorrow is guaranteed. I know that’s a morbid thought, but it’s my reality now.
When this opportunity came up for us to visit, I jumped on it. Even if they remember only a glimmer of this experience, it’s worth it to me.
The soft snores of my daughters are causing my eyes to droop. So, I’ll sign off for now, but rest assured I’ll share photos of our adventure this weekend.
Enjoy your weekend, friends!