Isabel MWeekending

Weekending

Isabel McHenry, 2020

I spent thirty-six hours in New York City But time is different in a city that never sleeps Thirty minutes on the subway only feels like ten in a minivan Forty-five minutes on the bus to LaGuardia is an hour of buildings crawling by I pretend it’s immersion when I sit typing in the building lobby past midnight, dozing off in the armchairs and smiling at passersby I could almost be a native when I start to cross the street before the light turns, impatient enough to keep moving that I can’t wait Seconds

I spent thirty-six hours in New York City But time is different when I find the people I rarely see Sitting with my grandmother and reading Dickinson, time pours like cement Standing in the line for my latte, the wait is over before I remember to listen for my name Brunch with my uncle drags on all morning, the oldest toaster known to man slowly browning my salt bagel Bookstore adventures with a best friend pass too quickly; each cover stroked is a Minute stolen and a Minute loved

I spent thirty-six hours in New York City But time is different without my family here At six in the morning, Mom wakes up to the sound of Sam playing a video game At seven in the morning, I send her a picture of the sunrise over the Hudson Ten years since she felt the New York sunlight on her skin, and somehow I am here Marching down the busy streets, my future is independence and I’m done with babysitting and dishes and Friday nights on the couch Navigating home on bright and humming sidewalks, I want to hold a little hand and tell a silly joke we’d reference for Hours

I spent thirty-six hours in New York City I’d like to spend thirty-six days

Jaelyn Alan: A Night Out on the Town