We awoke on Saturday morning in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. The sun was already glaring down on the city as it had been for the past two weeks. The heat of New York is, as I have learnt, intolerable. Especially when you are trying to save money on electricity bills. Barney had the innovation and the graciousness to put up fans in two of the three rooms in the apartment but it seemed that all they did was push around the hot, humid air entering the building. It sapped all of our energy, leaving us tired, irritable and very much in need of a getaway.
By midday Saturday we were well on our way to Providence via train. Greens and blues started to enter the landscape as we travelled further out of the city and with it, we became more and more relaxed, ready to commune in some way, with nature.
To me, the Cape used to be a prison. As a teenager, when everyone else was flocking to the Cape to soak up the sun’s rays and frolic on the beach, I was feeling sorry for myself; I was in a boring place where I was completely dependent on my mother and father to drive me around.
Alas, things have changed now and I appreciate the Cape for its natural beauty and freedom from the hustle and bustle of the city. In fact, my sentiments towards this muscular arm of land (the Cape is shaped like an arm with Woods Hole residing in the armpit) started to change last fall, when I began my internship at WCAI, the local NPR station; my first step towards my future in journalism. I began to appreciate the quiet certitude it brought me-- that tomorrow, I would see the same faces, go to the same coffee shop and the end of the day, be happy and at peace with the world. What brought on this sudden change in me was most likely a certain maturity and desire for quiet that I have never had before. Perhaps, but what is certain, Barney and I were so happy to be escaping the heat of NYC for something a little more refreshing.
Maybe it was the lack of natural colors in my life or the heavy spring rains Cape Cod has experienced, or a combination of the two, but the flowers were almost unnatural in their color and beauty: an attribute of the Cape I had never really admired before. Everywhere, flowers bloomed with extravagant glory, making it hard to believe anything so natural, could be so vivid in color.
It was heavenly walking along the quiet roads of Woods Hole and even taking a dip in the not so nippy Atlantic waters. For a change, we just were, just existed. There was no hustle going on, fewer angry individuals to deal with and no real schedule. Most importantly, I spent time with my two heroes: Steve and Irene, also known as my parents. I got to hear them recount tales, some that I was a part of, others that transpired before my time but all equally wonderful to hear and be a part of, whether vicariously or in the flesh.
And now we head back to the city that never sleeps, where the heat wave has yet to break. Yet we go back with the assurance that there is a place out there, that begins just beyond the city limits, where one can enjoy the sounds of birds, see flowers bloom and watch waves break along the shore.
And that gives me the strength to make the most of these next couple of weeks even if I am working a job that it not fulfilling and living in a not so cheap sauna parlor. Soon enough, all will come into perspective, not only for me, but for Barney as well. He will find a job that he loves and feels fulfilled doing and I will begin a Masters program in a field that I love.
It all positive thinking for the moment, at least until we hit the subway system of New York!
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