The nights have been warm of late. But as the darkness grows old and the stars fade, cool air that has spent the night crossing the Atlantic finally makes landfall at Rockaway and continues across Jamaica Bay, rustling down the streets of Queens, flowing around and through all the open windowed houses and apartments, gently stirring to life the sleeping families who have come here from all over the world to chase their dreams, until, finally, the early morning breeze rattles the blinds above my head and I open my eyes.
And, sadly, the joy’s not there. Like fresh peaches being slowly allowed to rot, I am incapable of enjoying summers last gifts.
When Amy gets up, Heath cuddles against me, a physical closeness that’s just starting to become rare. Hallie, peacefully sprawled across her bassinet wiggles and sighs, and I wish that I could sleep with her utter abandon.
Like a sailor’s glass, my moods rise and fall with the changes in the air. This weekend, as hurricanes filled the waters of the Atlantic and Hanna worked her way up the east coast, my emotional weather darkened and grew turbulent. Exacerbated by lack of sleep, lack of exercise, caffeine addiction and a screaming need to have some time of my own, storms began to brew. As always, my impulse is to grow quiet, hole up with a good book and ride it out. But like any solitary endeavour, this was nigh on impossible with two small children and a wife who is more tired than I am.
And so I weathered the storm as best I could, reading and sleeping as much as possible while trying to be on best behaviour. Doing the dishes, making food, feeding Hallie and answering Heath’s fifth iteration of “Why?” with as little impatience as possible. Trying to accept the fact that I have, for the moment, lost hold of all the strands of my life. As they blow frantically about, I do my best to grab them, but to no avail. Until the wind dies down and fair weather returns, which it always does, I’ll just have to wait.
But Hallie is holding her head up more and more, although she still refuses to give me a smile. Heath has started school and, despite daily stories of him hitting somebody or somebody hitting him, he seems to enjoy it. Amy is as lovely as I’ve ever seen her, and for the most part, as patient. And the storms are receding now. The water is still rough, but no levees have been breached. And tonight, I trust, the winds will once again make their immigrant journey across the sea to stir the dreams of my neighbors, to whisper the leaves of the trees and to to kiss my family with the fresh air of a receding darkness.
Playing in the City with Trains 
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