Choose to Take the Journey

Astoria, New York

We stepped out of the fluorescent-lighted restaurant and onto the lamplit sidewalk. The temperature that night was mild. I grabbed her hand as I hurried her along to the Bohemian beer garden. She had never been, so I was eager to show her. We’d have to be quick, I thought, if we wanted to make it to the dessert café before closing time.

When we got to the beer garden, I stopped for only a moment to point out the stone facade and massive wooden doors out front. I had my ID ready in hand to show the doorman. She leisurely sifted through her purse for hers.

“You’re good,” the doorman mechanically informed us as he handed back her driver’s license. “Thanks,” I responded with equal dispassion. I pulled her through the indoor bar area and out into the garden, which was really just a lawn banded with rows of picnic tables. I led her to the center and made a sweeping gesture with my free hand. “Check it out,” I announced.

“Wooow, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed.

“‘Cool. Let’s go get dessert.”

She let go of my hand and sat down on the bench behind us. “What’s the rush?” she asked, looking up at me inquisitively.

“I just wanted to take you to my favorite Greek yogurt place.”

“Can’t we just sit here for a while?” she asked softly.

“But it closes soon!” I objected.

“Can’t you just show me next time?”

I slumped down beside her, unsure if i had just been defeated or enlightened. As I sat there, my heart rate slowing, I began to feel the cool, crisp air against my skin. My gaze was drawn upwards irresistably by the glow of the moon. For the first time that night, I saw the midnight blue sky above me, open and inviting, speckled with stars, big and small. My god, I thought. In my rush to get her from one place to another, I had missed… everything.

I felt her hand slip into mine again. It was warm… soft… and gentle.

We sat there in silence, looking at the moon, looking at us. Motionless. Timeless. Content.

Spontaneously, we began chatting about everything, and nothing. About important trivialities and lighthearted concerns.

As the flow of people into the garden gradually reversed, we instinctively stood up to leave. I walked her back to her subway line, enjoying the intimate solitude of the streets. When we got to the base of the stairs leading up to the bridge, she stopped and stared into my eyes, waiting, like the female lead of a movie. I wrapped my arms around her as she stepped in close. We hugged. Then, we kissed. It was soft… warm… and gentle, like her.

We heard the rumbling of the next train, pulling into the bridge platform overhead. “Good night,” she said. “I had a great time.” She turned around and ran up the concrete steps.

I walked home that night, the feeling of her lips lingering on mine. I asked myself: What’s the rush anyway? If this were really a movie, then I’m in no hurry to get to the end.

*****

In our constant rush to get things, achieve things, and be done with it already, how often do we skip past all the good stuff? If you’re an achiever, as most people who read this kind of blog are, I imagine that you could benefit from an occasional reminder to just… slow… down.

To eat slower. To not go for the next bite without swallowing the previous one.

To read slower. To not speed past “irrelevant” words, but instead to pause… until images, smells, or other feelings spontaneously manifest before your senses.

To wake up early so you don’t have to rush to work. To lose yourself in your duties so you’re not checking the clock every hour, willing for the workday to end.

To warm up slowly before you work out. To cool down slowly when you’re done.

To wind down before you go to bed, without trying to utilize every available minute.

To just slow down today, because yesterday is long gone, and tomorrow is yet to come.

*****

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