Emerging from the subway tunnel in Brooklyn, the B train trudges across the Manhattan bridge, crossing the East river toward the city. Skyscrapers reach up high, and the sun beams across the sky, filling the faces of us passersby. The view is sublime, prompting faces to rise from their phones and absorb the grounding moment. 

Here I am surfacing from my Brooklyn hermitage to chase the dream once more. Each time I cross this bridge, the view reminds me why I’ve chosen to live in New York.  This is another chance to take a bite at the Big Apple, to swim in the coral reef of the city, where opportunity awaits at every corner. Despite the struggles of the city, I’m inspired to try my lot once more.  

Crossing the bridge, we now reach land, the promised land, Manhattan. We swim between the skyscrapers, then dive back underground. My heart rate rises. We’re in it. It’s on.

Returning to Brooklyn feels like returning home. The B/Q riders are a diverse and tranquil crowd. Pure serenity is found among a crowd of strangers as we silently cross the river again, watching the Manhattan skyscrapers fade into the background. As the evening rays bathe our squinting eyes, we find a deep breath and a relaxed  posture. Unplugging from the spin of the city, we settle back into the eclectic folds of Brooklyn. Stop by stop, we find our way home from another job well done.

Tonight, in the rainy darkness, the view did not hit me quite the same. After some time away from the city, I perked up when the train began its trek across the bridge. I attempted to conjure up the wonder once inspired by this route, however my mind drifted away. Was it from a lack of mindfulness that I missed the moment or did it simply not hit the same? 

Perhaps the route means something different to me now. I’m not presently in New York for an aspirational drive. Now, it’s transactional. I’m here simply because I had business to handle and errands to complete. So crossing that bridge no longer inspired wonder, it simply transited me to the other side.

How many more summers in NYC? Will Burna Boy make a better song than Last Last? The question is not whether he makes a better song, it's whether it beats the nostalgia.
The Sands of Time, Fall 2023