Rockleigh, NJ – June 18, 2013
Manhattan’s skyscrapers of glass and steel give way to older giants of stone and brick. Walls of buildings slide apart and drop lower. Freeways curve away and disappear. Subway trains rattle out of their caves, blink silver in the light, and lumber down waterfront tracks toward towns no one’s ever heard of.
I feel the loss of my friends with the city. Good friends, old and new. Nights spent drinking wine and laughing over stories. Concerts and dinners. Feeling safe and loved. They are the best part of three years in law school, the part that isn’t just paper on a wall. They remind me what it feels like to believe anything is possible.
But you still have to fight for it.
New York’s famous skyline fades behind a mist of rain. Palisades of rock rise off the Hudson’s west bank. The river takes shape, feels less like an ocean and more like a giant tongue of water stretching north. It’s beautiful, almost wild between patches of buildings.
The chunks grow, civilization shrinks back, and I rush north, pushed by an incoming tide from an ocean that I left behind.