East River

It has been a part of my life since it started. When I was a child, my grandmother’s living room windows allowed a sort of sidelong glance at a small bit of it. I often sat at those windows watching the light dance on the water, for all the world like so many sunlight fairies. I would dream of the sea and where it might take me someday.
I used to walk down to the South Street Seaport long before it was developed into the sort of mall it is now, when the museum was a humble enterprise, when the cavernous old buildings were in various stages of disuse and use. I remember when there was a flea market operated in the building that today houses a restaurant and an exhibition. The most compelling image has always been the masts on the marvelous restored sailing ships of the museum.

While on vacation, Folláin and I visited the Seaport. In recent years I have come to seek time sitting by the river near the Brooklyn Bridge. I live closer to the Manhattan Bridge, but between the two, and the Brooklyn Bridge is far and away my favorite (although it’s the other one I could see from Grandma’s windows). We sat for a while at the back of Pier 17, which is the most mall-like building at the present-day Seaport, and enjoyed a grand view of my favorite bridge (the Manhattan Bridge is the one just beyond it, and part of the Williamsburg Bridge can be made out beyond that).

The sun is shining right now. My present apartment faces the courtyard, not the river, but I know there are fairies dancing in it now. So I’ll get on with my day. I hope yours is a marvel-filled thing.