Today was my first day at my new job. I woke late and stretched in bed before dressing and climbing into a cab for the short trip to work. I had curled and brushed my hair into sleek, movie star waves, inexplicably creating a glowy, golden haze around my peripheral vision that added to the already glistening, golden, sunny day.
Lunch was warm, albeit lonely. Taking time for new friends and all that. I missed my posse of rag-tag gentlemen making “That’s what she said” jokes and poking fun about each others’ body hair.
At 6:30 I slipped on my sandals and sauntered home in the perfect sunset warmth of cooling day. I walked all the way home, slowly feeling happiness creep in. A lot of relief. I’m glad I don’t have to go back to that old place again. Never, ever, ever again. And that is good. But this new place is good, too. And I started to feel that hopeful happiness tonight.
I bought frozen yogurt for dinner and sat on an abandoned stoop in the Lower East Side, eating my cool creamy dinner in blissful solitude, thinking about how fortunate it is that a little girl from a run-down house in Pleasanton now gets to eat ice cream for dinner on the steps of a multi-million dollar brownstone in New York City. How wonderful is that?