Falling Closer

The coldest New York day since last winter was this Monday, when the icy breeze flew against my cheeks and neck as I plopped down off my front steps onto the 112th St. sidewalk. An avid fan of the cold, I smiled. I wondered. It can’t be, not yet.

The days have been busy with mornings that seem to arrive unjustly earlier with each passing day. By the evening, Daniel and I are so exhausted that we slip into an easy sleep. When we first met, we used to fall asleep chronically. It was embarrassing, because one of us would always fall asleep before the other fearing the next day that we had been rude or snored. I felt so comfortable with him. He probably felt the same.

So, dammit, at which point in this relationship will it stop being so ... hard? When you love, when you’re really in love, doesn’t it all come so ... naturally, so easily? Easy. Obvious. Clear. Like the right combination of coat and shoes, won’t you just know when it’s right, when it looks right?

Honestly, we’re too tired to fight. We’re just happy to make it through the day. Is this really what it all comes down to? I remember this with Keith. I know I've mentioned how uncomfortable that makes me. It happens to everyone, right? It has to. Why doesn’t anyone talk about it? Sometimes, I feel that I’m on an episode of Leave It to Beaver. I yoosta could talk about anything. And, now ...

Is this test before we hit one year next month? I was so convinced of this relationship. Now, like all else, I am unsure. New York seems completely cloudy, not because the summer is waning, but because nothing is certain. I used to believe that Daniel was the presumptuous one, with his impossible ideas about relationships from Hollywood and from his parents who never fight in front of him. After some time spent in quiet meditation and messy overeating, it may be that I’m the impossible one, wanting love to come and remain so easy.

I came to this idea on the cold bench in the school courtyard. As I looked into the clear sky, it may have appeared that I was checking out the group of blue-collared men (quite literally in uniforms of a starched azure) who were schlepping huge pieces of wood into view. Where they going to set up booths? I could almost smell the yellowed popcorn and pungent pickles. A party. A holiday. Madonna thinks we need one.

I came to this idea on the cold bench in the school courtyard. As I looked into the clear sky, it may have appeared that I was checking out the group of blue-collared men (quite literally in uniforms of a starched azure) who were schlepping huge pieces of wood into view. Where they going to set up booths? I could almost smell the yellowed popcorn and pungent pickles. A party. A holiday. Madonna thinks we need one.

“What the F?” I thought. “Is there some kind of fucking carnival I’m missing? As I came to feel the cold iron through my pants and against my bottom, I realized that they were preparing the sukkahs. Next week is Rosh HaShanah, which is also the first day autumn. Soon thereafter, we’ll have a week of Sukkot. It all made sense. I was watching the advent of my two favorite seasons in all their icy, gray glory. The idea of misshapen pumpkins and darkness at 5:00 PM uplifts my sunburned soul. How did I not realize that a new season is upon us? It is my time; it's just beginning.