I Miss NY

There.  I said it.  I'm not sure if it's my life there that I'm missing, or if it's the city itself, or both.  Probably both.

I'm reading a book that takes place not just in NYC, but in Morningside Heights/the UWS, where I used to live.  It's filled with descriptions of corners and places in the park, most of which I used to see every day.

And it's snowing in NY right now.  Snowing!  Before it's even snowed here.  Which means that someday soon there will be Christmas displays in the windows downtown, and lights strung up in trees, and ice skating rinks.  And I know that those things will be here in Anchorage too.  But the part of Alaska that is amazing is not the city.  In Alaska you're left amazed by how beautiful the mountains and waters are, and by how wild everything is, even in the most urban areas.  In NY, you're left amazed by what's been built . . . by what's been made.  The city is so beautiful, and we (humans), we made it.  And yet . . . we didn't.  We built the buildings and the roads and the monuments, but there's something more than that.  There's something almost magical about how one small island can be so infinite.