Despite all of my talk about all the great things to do in New York, I have to admit, I really like having quiet nights at home. Tonight was one of them. It’s been a busy week, and I have a busy weekend ahead of me, so it was nice to get home, have an unhealthy but delicious dinner, and talk on the phone.
I used to say I wasn’t a phone person – I even got anxious sometimes when I had to call someone – but my first job cured me of that. I still don’t talk to most of my friends on the phone all that often, but tonight, after a nice chat with my dad, I had a long catch-up with one of my best friends – who is also my oldest friend. We grew up across the street from each other, so technically we’ve been friends for just over twenty-five years.
I call the part of the state where I grew up “Western New York” because NYC natives call the whole state upstate and might think I mean Westchester. Also I just like Western New York better. If you drive fifteen minutes out of our suburb you start spotting farm markets all over. The area is full of them, which made this weekend—and every October weekend I’ve been at home ever—fun, and more importantly, delicious.
It’s not quite 8 A.M. on a Saturday and I’m on a train headed north along the Hudson River. I’m on the wrong side of the train for the best view, but I can look out the window between the spaciously-set seats.
The trees have just barely begun to turn; scattered among the green are tiny shocks of red or dusty yellow. But mostly the leaves are green, enough that if I weren’t looking for fall foliage I might not notice the hints of color. They’re most noticeable where the sunlight hits. The sky is turning bright blue behind white cotton wisps of clouds in the east, but in the west over the river it’s a muted blue against gray clouds that stretch along the horizon.