standing in the shower. dreaming.

i took a long shower tonight. let the water rush over me.

closed my eyes and dreamt.

of the corner of 76th and columbus. and its blue storefront.

of cafe aroma's israeli lattes. foam sticking to my upper lit.

of blossom's vegan milkshakes.

of the hudson river and its flourish of green.

of boots and tights and winter hats.

of fall.

of a dingy basement bar open till four that plays nothing but marley.

of the foyer of my apartment building. the marble steps. yellowing light.

of the corner coffee shop on saturday mornings. white counter top before me. coffee and croissant.

of my towering black bookcase and the white speakers my brother got me last christmas.

of my bed. my own bed.

and the lovely family i've cobbled together in that city of millions.

soon enough. soon enough. still got some mountains to climb. figuratively and literally.

a vision quest.

when i first arrived at school (juilliard), all those years ago, my father would say, i went to school right here. right across the street. and never did i dream i'd have a daughter who would end up here.

from my first year dorm room the words Fordham Law School sat in perfect view. situated right there on the stone-white building. and my father would look out at them and say, all those years ago, i didn't know. things come full circle, don't they?

again and again he would say this.

and then again.

so often did he speak these words, i stopped listening.

now, though.

well,

sometimes we'll speak on the phone and i'll say, oh i'm downtown trying to find such and such and Dad will say, oh my first job was just around the corner.

and something is illuminated. and i feel connected.

because i stopped listening, i never actually heard what my dad was saying. it never occurred to me that i was crossing paths with his younger-self. navigating the same terrain. standing on the same corners. experiencing the same late-afternoon sunlight.

yesterday i headed up to the bronx near riverdale (which is where my father was born and raised) to run some errands, and there on the platform i thought, perhaps my father once stood right here. perhaps he waited for the same train. perhaps, perhaps...

these thoughts come to me now. not too often. but just often enough.

people ask me why i don't just leave new york. there's no reason to stay and clearly i'm not in love with the city. and i think the answer--more than anything else--is that i'm not ready to. there is a reason to stay, even if the reason is unclear at best.

in some ways new york is my version of the vision quest. i am looking for an answer. trying to figure out where i come from. to piece together a history.

i'm looking for an answer, i'm just not completely sure of the question.