It’s April! I’ve been wearing dresses and cardigans all week, soaking up the sunshine and watching the city change with the seasons. I am still swamped with work, but I can finally see the light at the end.
March was an odd month because I was wallowing in deep winter hibernation mode. It was just one of those days when I received a phone call from Jannese about having dinner with a visitor from Japan. Over a hearty Meatball Shop meal, I met the talented and adorable Ros of Polkaros who came to the city from Tokyo on a short trip. Walking around familiar streets with a new set of eyes and good friends, I was reminded of just how much I do love where I am and how much this place has become a home.
It’s been over a year since I moved to New York. I remember the city was disorienting, far from the quiet mountains of Yunnan and Kunming, where it is always spring. It had snowed a foot when I woke up in Brooklyn, walking miles along almost deserted Bushwick lofts, hoping to walk into a warm place to call home. We walked into a restaurant, which turned out to be Roberta’s. And so it all worked out, as it always does.
“APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.”
–From “The Waste Land” by T.S. Eliot