The setting is as follows: a cool Sunday, about late afternoon / early evening, wind is still blowing as New York wind does, but it’s not bad. There’s a group of three friends passing around a volleyball pretty badly, but they’re having fun. A couple lays down and cracks open two beers. A group of four plays spike-ball. A dad and his young son play soccer while a couple and theirs play baseball. The bat is plastic. The boy can’t be older than three.
It feels like one of those hidden gems, this park. Right on the water’s edge of TriBeCa, you can see New Jersey’s skyline from here. Hear the helicopters giving tours. One air-pod in playing Mac Miller, but of course. A few dogs trot around. If I ask their owners to play with them, I hope they’ll let me.
My heart grows fuller every second I’m here. I want to immortalize myself in this city. Grow old with my 2.5 kids in a white picket fence enclosed, high-rise apartment.
I’m manifesting it, this dream. I refuse to wake up.
brittany given. 