A Northerner in the South

Escape. The word holds the promise of salvation. It soothes our ache to shed our shackles, both imagined and imposed. It’s been co-opted by air fresheners and airlines, video games and fragrances; dangled in front of our faces, just out of reach. The possibility of escape medicates us.

When I went to New York City, I was looking for escape. I felt depression creeping up around the corners of my consciousness again. My mind was withered and frayed, and I decided anonymity was healing. I wanted to disintegrate into the world and disappear.

But the city, as always, had different plans.

Upon arrival at my midtown hotel, the concierge smiled at me. It was the kind of smile you reserve for people you’ve loved before. She had bright amber eyes and cocoa freckles, and she advised me to accept sensitivity as strength. I thanked her and meant it more than I thought I would.

Later, at a deserted soul food joint, my waitress split her time between me and a table full of kids – her own, waiting on their mom to get off work by playing I Spy.

“Kids still play I Spy?” I asked them.

Soon, all three of them stood around my table. Framed by troubled brows, the brother told me about the time he ripped up an English assignment. The middle sister touched my hair and sweetly enthused over its curls. I smiled at the youngest girl. She smiled back. I told her she looked just like my cousin, she asked to see a picture. I showed it to her and she concluded that we must be family after all.

It was the third best fried chicken I’ve ever had, and that didn’t matter at all.

At the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine, it was silent enough to hear echoes in my head. A security guard appeared at my side, and we stood shoulder-to-shoulder under a high canopy of marble and glass. He described the way lilac lights illuminate the ancient columns for fancy parties in honour of important people. His own eyes sparkled with something like hope.

New York gave me perfect moments blessed by sunshine and permanence, as though orchestrated by heaven itself. When I say this out loud I feel stupid – that’s probably why it’s important. It’s a mystery I’m solving as I write this.

But I do know one thing. To replicate my experience, keep your eyes open and your heart soft.

I wanted escape. What I needed was somewhere I felt whole; felt everything I am and may yet become. Of all places, somehow, New York already knew that.