The City That Never Sleeps, Sleepy.

The other morning while walking to the post office, I noticed a taxi cab backing up on my one way street.  There were no cars coming, it was relatively early on a Saturday and the street was empty.  Curious, I watched as he backed up slowly, further and further up the street, finally stopping in front of a fire hydrant.  The cabbie rolled down his window, then, perhaps thinking better of it, opened his car door.  He swung himself around to sit facing out toward the sidewalk.  From the passenger seat he retrieved a cinnamon muffin. Rather than taking a bite as I expected, he started crumbling the muffin up into hundreds of tiny pieces, scattering them all along the street and sidewalk. Of course, the sparrows and the pigeons arrived immediately, thrilled with this unexpected weekend breakfast.  He looked up at me, shrugged his shoulders and smiled. 

I like that I have time to witness things like this now.

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I have been back in New York for just over a month.  Of course, I anticipated that things would be wildly dissimilar upon my return and I am finding my days, my routine, and this city have a very different rhythm than life in the "before" world.  The hustle and bustle is gone.  The city that never sleeps is very sleepy.  New York always calms down a tiny bit in the summertime, particularly in August, but this year, summer of 2020, it all feels exceptionally slow and quiet.  For a city that always offers activities to the point of overwhelm and exhaustion, there is, frankly, not much to do.  None of the museums are open, Broadway is shuttered.  Movie theaters feel reminiscent of an apocalypse as they still display posters from films that were set to open on March 13th.  Indoor dining is not yet permitted - only outdoor seating or take away.  There are no tourists.  There is no office to get to and therefore no subway train to catch during a busy commute.  There is certainly no rush in Midtown. Times Square, while not deserted like it was this spring, is quiet enough that on a recent Friday afternoon I was able to walk down the sidewalk without anyone else on that same block.

It is a bit surreal.

Some days this new normal version of New York makes me a little sad. One of the most electrifying things about New York always is its energy.  To see this city as a shell of its former self breaks my heart in a million ways. The other night I was feeling bored and restless and knew that any other time my solution would have been to bop down to the TKTS booth and see what theater tickets I could snag for a same day/discounted price.  Being hit again with the realization that is not an option, nor will it be one for at least another season if not longer almost brought me to tears.

On other days though, when I'm not so restless and bored, I find I am actually kind of loving this new pace.  Obviously I don't want there to be a pandemic, obviously I don't want people to be sick or dying or out of work or school or dealing with any of the repercussions this strange year has brought us.  

But I like these sleepy streets of Manhattan.  I'm enjoying seeing people out walking just to be out walking.  I like strolling along blocks in my neighborhood, marveling at the different architecture and beautiful brownstones that line street after street.  It's nice to be home most afternoons and look up from my work to catch the way the sunlight strikes the buildings across from me around the 4 o'clock hour. I enjoy seeing the same people with their same dogs walk up and down my block daily; I have given most of them nicknames, made up stories about each of them in my head.  

In the old days of my pre-pandemic life, I used to scramble to get all of my errands done together. I'd mentally make a list of which stores I needed to visit and strategize my plan of attack to form the most efficient route possible. Usually these errands were squeezed in on a Saturday morning before dashing off to a yoga class or a museum or meeting up with a friend.  Now, in this current normal, I find that I stretch out my errand list. I take the long route and I spread these errands out over days not hours; checking places off one by one, day by day, even if the shops I need to frequent are in the same block.  This helps spread the days out a bit, gives them some structure, and most importantly gets me out of my apartment regularly.  I have also developed the habit of bookending my days with Central Park - blessed, beautiful, Godsent Central Park. Every morning I walk up the block to the park before I start my work day and back again every evening when I finish. It is the thing that grounds me.

A long sufferer of FOMO, the Coronavirus seems to be helping me curb that stressor.  No one is doing anything! There is nothing to miss! There are no art exhibits to be upset about missing or concerts or shows that you couldn't snag a ticket to or events that everyone except you seems to be attending. Ironically, I feel less lonely knowing almost everyone is lonely right now.  In a bizarre turn of events, it's like this forced pause gives me the liberty of not worrying about what I might be missing out on.

****** 

Last week I was talking with a friend about Covid silver linings; finding the good in all of this.  Because do not misunderstand - I still think this is hard.  It is very, very hard for each and every one of us in a myriad of ways. 

However, the slowing down and the quieter pace have been good me; likely good for almost all of us.  As someone who is decidedly not usually good at stillness, to have it forced upon me is a challenge no doubt, but a blessing in many ways too.   

Sometimes when I am really down in the dumps about all things Covid and this new normal or when I am missing my old ways of buzzing about with a thousand places to be I remind myself that this time isn't going to last forever.  Of course I have no crystal ball to know what the future looks like for us or when we will get ourselves back to some new post-Covid existence that doesn't involve canceling or shuttering most everything. But I know we'll get there.  And I imagine when we do that some day we might even find ourselves a tiny bit nostalgic for the year when everything paused, even one of the greatest cities in the world.