One Day in February
If I could return to just one day in February before the encroaching coronavirus shut down New York City, I would live – truly live -- in every single moment of that day. Now that I have been locked up for three months, I understand that I have been walking through my life, without truly experiencing what was unfolding around me.
If I could return to just one day in February, I would start the day in a coffee shop sipping my latte and eavesdropping on the conversations around me. It is the overheard conversations and snippets of stories that contribute to the ongoing dialog I have with this city. I tip the barista generously and head to my hair salon where I finally get the haircut and color fix that I have been so desperate for. My hair is troubled as it has been overtaken with long unruly waves and multi-colors of blonde that I have tried to fix at home. With my hair fixed, I can now work on fixing my small corner of the world. I admit that I need to work on my priorities – first coffee, then hair, but then art and books.
If I could return to just one day in February, I would visit the galleries in Chelsea that I never quite found the time to get to. I would overcome my shyness and solicit feedback on the artwork hanging on the pure white walls from people standing next to me. And I would buy a book about one of the artists which I would carry with me to the diner that I frequently visit for a late lunch.
If I could return to just one day in February, I would visit the diner on 14th street with the 20-page menu that serves breakfast all day. I would order my usual cheese omelet, coffee and toasted sesame bagel and ask to hold the potatoes. I would spend the next hour sipping cups of coffee that are continuously refilled by the waiter and leafing through the art book that I just bought. I am sitting in the little table in the corner by the window and next to me are a line of five other tables with single diners. We don’t speak to each other, but we are there together and exchange smiles as we sit and eat and think and read.
If I could return to just one day in February, I would take my time shopping in the Westside Market without fear of surface contamination by the virus. I would buy my usual stapes -- milk, oranges, yoghurt, muffins – and unpack them at home without wiping them down with a disinfecting wipe. I would spend the rest of the afternoon catching up on reading the New York Times. My heart would go out to the people in Wuhan, China who are suffering from the virus, and I am especially moved by the photo of people being dragged out of their house by the quarantine police. I would start questioning if we are as safe as we think we are here in America. But I don’t let these thoughts ruin my perfect day.
It I could return to just one day in February, I would meet a friend for dinner at a local Russian restaurant where we are seated shoulder-by-shoulder in the small space. I order hot borscht, blinis, and chicken kiev and a glass of cabernet sauvignon. It is my friend’s birthday and I order a special desert for her. The wait staff sing a loud roaring Happy Birthday in Russia when the dessert is delivered to our table. We all clap our hands and sway with the organ that provides the musical accompaniment.
If I could return to just one day in February, I would stop at a wine bar after dinner on my way home. I never actually do this because I am not comfortable sitting alone at a bar in the evening. But on this day, I face my shyness head-on and end the evening with a nice conversation with a couple from out of town. I give them some suggestions on restaurants, and they ask me about my life in New York and they tell me about their life in the mid-west where they have large dogs that they miss very much.
And then the magical day comes to an end. I sleep soundly for the first time in a long while with the memories of the perfect day in February that I will return to again and again during the long barren months of isolation and sheltering in place.
Penny Cagan