Riding through New York last night, gazing up at the passing brownstones, churches and skyscrapers, I realized that New York is a city of giants. Some people would feel intimidated by the dwarfing structures surrounding them, but I think that the people here, those of us who love this city, are inspired by them. My friendly giants tower over me, rising up to the sky, some containing massive mosaics of saints gazing back down. I politely nod to them, taking in their grandness, feeding off of their enormity. All I feel is a rush, a drive to get to the top of these giants and gaze across this beautiful city from their shoulders.
I mean this literally and figuratively! I do want to climb, I want to become successful enough to own a piece of this brick and mortar, a piece with a view of the entire kingdom. I want to climb and claw my way to a corner office overlooking the sea of monuments that make-up Manhattan. I suppose this must be one of the many things that make New Yorkers so special, in the face of giants we charge ahead, fueled by the challenge and monuments to past glories, we do not cower in our own small stature.
These friendly giants are alive with the ghosts of the past, throbbing with history and both accomplished dreams and shattered ones. This entire city is alive, a creature with it's own pulse and energy. It is as if I will never be alone in New York, because the city itself absorbs me into it's flow and life. This embrace further drives me forward, unafraid.
How could a place capture my heart so completely? Is there any other location on earth like it? Perhaps, but I certainly have not found one, so like a love sick teenager I will continue to let myself be surprised and enthralled and hopelessly in love with my city.
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