Sam and Charlie

I thought I would miss my jeep. The California sun shining down, tanning my arms. The Santa Ana winds blowing through my increasingly scarce hair. Belting out songs from Chicago on the 405. But all of that seems like a distant dream now. And here I've discovered a new kind of beauty.

Whether going to and from work, carrying hefty groceries and awkward palm trees up to my apartment, or out simply taking a stroll, walking has become a curious new adventure of it's own. On the sidewalks there are no lanes to cross. No traffic jams - at least not unbearably long ones. Just me and Sam and Charlie.

At first it was the experience of walking around with your ipod. In your own little universe of music where anything can happen in your head. You don't really have to focus, so your mind is left to wander. And now instead of singing showtunes, I'm able to perform entire dance numbers in my head. Your steps fall to the rhythm of the music as you imagine the passersby suddenly joining in a dance routine a la Rent or Fame. And all the while, it's your own little secret. No one else knows what you're listening to, what world you're in at that moment.

When the summer came, I would look up to feel misty droplets falling to my face under a clear blue sky. It took me a moment to understand that it was simply the air conditioning units sweating from their windows. Then there's the fashion. With no car payments to make and no shining automobiles to brand you, people turn to their shoes to make statements. Loafers, stilettos, boots, sandals. All on parade. Nevermind the endlessly widening holes in your socks. No one can see those.

This evershifting city can change your mood in an instant. One day I was crossing 8th avenue, rushing on some errand, too much in a hurry. An old lady with a cane tapped me on the shoulder. In typical New York fashion, I threw her a wary look and prepared to bolt into the crowd. But then she asked me if I would mind walking her across the street. My Southern gallantry kicked in and I of course obliged her. On our painstakingly slow way across, her seemingly frail hand gripped like iron around my arm. But her voice was soft and sweet and she kept me company all along the way and thanked me with a broad smile. I took my time for the rest of that day.

And then there are moments when the city can throw something unexpectedly serendipitous your way. I was in the foulest of moods, pushing my way through crowds in Wall Street. Lost, perspiring, anxiety growing deeper every second. But then I turned a corner to find a smiling face in the most unlikely of places. And everything suddenly seemed okay. No. Everything suddenly felt right. Like I was where I was supposed to be. Because no matter how much the city can drag you down, a little walk is sometimes all you need to regain perspective.