I’ve been having finals again right before the holidays, and it’s stressful to the max because I’m so desperately trying to advance to the next level at school. We also have a family wedding coming up in another state right after Christmas so the need to remember to buy pantyhose and then wear them has all but pushed me over the edge. Having just gotten over a stomach flu following on the heels of an upper respiratory infection, I’m ever more conscious of all the snorking, sneezing, loogey-hocking citizens around me. I’m so tense I’ve given myself a headache.
This past weekend, being the last one before Hanukkah and Christmas, I did what I had to do to relax: I took the train into the city and stood in Herald Square gawking at the Macy’s windows. The intricate, motorized displays that tell an unfolding multi-window story always fascinate me and make me feel like an awestruck kid. I love wearing scarves of all kinds, and this year the fashion displays showed every gorgeously dressed mannequin wearing one, too. Apparently, I’m in style and didn’t even know it.
From Macy’s I took a city bus down to Daughter’s, and it always astonishes me how many elderly people are on public transportation with their canes and walkers in 23 degree weather. The pioneers of the Oregon Trail had nothing on Manhattan’s osteo ice gliders this past freezing Saturday. Every stop had the driver putting the bus into kneeling mode to afford easier access for an aging passenger. Then began the eye-contact hockey among those sitting up front to see who was giving up their seat. The day was bleak and cold, but the mood on the bus was holiday pleasant. My MetroCard came up short on the fare, and while I searched for coins, the driver looked up at me with a smile and said quietly, “Why don’t you just take a seat.”
Daughter and I had lunch at a hotel café near Grand Central Station – juicy burgers with sweet potato fries – and then we cruised the Grand Central Holiday Craft Fair. Usually, we do the one at Union Square, but we both agreed it was just too damn cold to do an outdoor fair. So we lingered over the warm, indoor booths and bought small, last minute holiday gifts. For ourselves.
Then we sat on the cascading steps of the Grand Atrium and watched the exceptionally cheesy laser light show that is a holiday staple of the landmark station. This year’s theme was – God, I don’t even remember the theme – but it included the usual snowflakes and ersatz fireworks streaming across the walls and domed ceiling. After we made sufficient fun of it, Daughter took me down the ramp to the arch outside the Oyster Bar.
She told me to stand inside the corner at one end of the arch and face the wall. Then she went to the opposite corner and did the same. Suddenly, her voice was crystal clear in my ear saying, “You can hear me, can’t you, Mom?” I spun around expecting to see her right behind me, but there she was, waving from the other corner at least fifty feet away. She had taken me to the Whispering Gallery, where the acoustics allow your voices to travel along the domed ceiling to the diagonal corners of the arch as if you’re standing right next to each other. The magic of it made me smile with wonder, and we both turned back to our walls and giggled in each other’s ear. That girl always knows how to chase away my blues.
You can read more about the Whispering Gallery at this New Yorkology site.
Images that Conjure Other Thoughts describe Daughter’s Featured Fotos
magnetic
vigilant
fierce
win