Trick or Treat

Two years ago at this time, I was getting off the bus in front of Port Authority, agog at the skanky nurses, skanky brides, skanky Dorothys, skanky cowgirls, skanky police officers, and skanky Statue of Libertys filling the streets. It had been a long, weird day of travel - I was exhausted, my suitcases were heavy, and I didn't know where I was going to live.

Fast forward twenty-four months. I found a place to live, then moved, then moved again and now have my very own room. Tonight when I got off the train and the streets of my neighborhood were clogged with families, swarms of kids fat from the sweatshirts and jackets under their little costumes. A little girl at the grocery store told me she liked my pirate costume. I appreciated her graciousness in including my black boots and black and white paisley scarf in the spirit of the evening.

And another New Yorkiversary is about to be inscribed - my brother Noah is moving here on Thursday, also with no job or place to live. Yet. Except my couch, for at least a week or two. (Maybe I set a bad example of the way adults make decisions and take care of themselves.) In any event, his clothes are a lot nicer than mine, though he doesn't have as many books, and poverty can be dignified as long as you're well-dressed or well-read.

What's coming in the last twelve months? I can't wait to find out.