The New York Minute

I used to listen to The Eagles often.

The lyrics of the last stanza of the song, “New York Minute” say,

What the head makes cloudy
The heart makes very clear
The days were so much brighter
In the time when she was here
But I know there’s somebody somewhere
Make these dark clouds disappear
Until that day, I have to believe
I believe, I believe

In a New York Minute
Everything can change

Forward. photo of smalltowngirl

I moved away from New York City four months ago, and I’m just beginning to comprehend the meaning of the New York Minute.

Don’t get me wrong – I thought that I understood it before.  It’s only now that I’m outside of New York, though, that I really get it.

In the last four months, the whole of my life has changed like a whirlwind.

Today, a yellow envelope arrived in the mail from the guy my world revolved around for almost half of my time in New York.

His return address has changed, and in the envelope was no note. There was nothing personal inside the envelope at all, actually. Inside the envelope was a t-shirt he’d found of mine, and a CD with “pictures of you” scrawled across it in red marker.”

My memories of New York are so real. So alive. So huge.

And yet, this little piece of plastic seems to represent how tiny those memories really are in the grand scheme of my life. Should I feel cheated that my memories are so easily captured and contained? Maybe. But I have to believe that if those two amazing years in New York City seem so tiny now, it bodes well for how big and extraordinary my future must be.