Just above the silhouetted trees radiates the glow from the city lights. It is not as bright and warm as the rays from the moon permeating the humid fog that blankets the city. Breathing is a little difficult under these conditions, but an occasional coastal breeze brings relief and carries with it the last hint of summer. Under these conditions magic happens. A turtle pond is transformed into the moat of an exquisite illuminated castle whose grandeur is reflected in the dark water. Harmonic chords soar through the air and instantly transport this setting to another place and time. It's hard to believe these conditions can exist in a city polluted with traffic and commerce. But they do, nestled safely amid granite precipices and stalwart trees.
Central Park, an oasis for city dwellers to shake off the stress of survival and simply live. It's here that I first heard Beirut. It's here that I first ventured out for pleasure without my son (although I missed him every second). And, it's here that I first felt the pang at the thought that I might soon be leaving this all behind. Until then, I will allow the city, New York, and all of its magical splendors, to permanently etch itself into my memories. After all, this is my city. And although it's given me tough love at times, it's still my home.
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