Yesterday was Day Two of the kid’s mid-winter break and I was so desperate for alone-time that my ride on the subway into Manhattan felt like a luxurious spa vacation. I closed my eyes and tried to  meditate on the F-train. Breathing in, breathing out, I let my thoughts come and go and didn’t dwell on anything for long. No thinking, no thinking, just the rhythm of the rails; the doors opening, the doors closing; a panhandler asking for some change.

It was a heavenly break from the chaos of the apartment; from too much togetherness in too small a space. School vacations are fun but I was already in need of a vacation from this one.

When I got off the subway spa, I walked peacefully toward my endontist’s office on East 53rd Street past Rockefeller Center and the soothing hustle-bustle of Fifth Avenue. Even the root canal was better than the mayhem back home. The dentist barely spoke – so busy was he drilling and poking, and thrusting his fingers into my mouth. I lay on the chair, my mouth covered with rubber, dental dam in place.  Eyes closed, breathing in and out through my nose, I listened to oldies on WCBS radio feeling thankful for this pensive, if not peaceful, time.

When the dental work was done, I was ready to re-enter vacationland. My husband and daughter met me for ice skating at Wollman Rink. We walked into Central Park and admired orange colored curtains, which have begun to feel like a permanent part of Olmstead’s plan. Rejevenated, I skated with my daughter for three hours on an unseasonably warm and blue sky day.

Yours from Brooklyn,
OTBKB