I board my plane. “You want one?” says the boy next to me. Melatoin in hand.
“Thanks I have some” I say. “Should I take one or two?” he asks. I say two wouldn’t hurt anyone. He doesn’t sleep, anyways.

***

I arrive in New York, blurry eyed, wide eyed, missing my girls, excited to see them. Hop in a cab, am at SS’s in twenty five. She greets me at the door, full of smiles. We chat, and I proclaim I am not tired. “I’m thinking I could go for my run,” I say, looking at the clock. 6:30.

***

SS goes back to bed. I sleep until 2:30.

***

I wake up. D makes me a sandwich. I eat, I blog. I run around 4. SS is home in the evening, and D makes us a delicious stir fry dinner. We chatter, and SS makes a snacking cake while I watch sharks. We watch until SS and D can watch no more, then we all settle into sleep. Despite my day, I fall asleep by 1.

***

In the morning, we get coffee, and have Joe’s O’s, which are delicious, if you care to know. We chatter some more, wait for K to arrive. We get snacks, we get hungry. We wait. Arrive she does, and now we’re finally back together. Let me see your hand, I demand. This feels like home.

***

We make sandwiches. We pack up, we take Lola, and we head to the park. I tell stories, they tell stories, and we laugh, and laugh, and laugh. We have not a care in the world. We are together, and time stands still, as we fill each other in on everything and nothing at the same time.

***

We walk home. We go grocery shopping. The Whole Foods check out line is fascinating to me, and a little scary. K and I stand in front of the coolers, assessing every ice cream/frozen dessert option we have. We go home, goods in hand. We make chicken tacos, which are wonderful and perfect. We watch sharks. We watch Canadian cop shows. We (OK, I) cry over Jerry. We watch more sharks, and we are happy.

***

Waking up, ready for coffee. We head to get some, as well as a bagel for each. I prefer over toasted to under, always K says, and I agree. K and I get larges, SS sticking to a medium, but I know I could never, ever have enough iced coffee. We head back. K and I get our nails done. Gray and teal for me. Light pink (was it pink?) for her.

***

We head to the MET. We follow SS through a maze of people to a surprisingly uncrowded entrance. We climb to the roof. You’re right, I hate it, says K. Just as SS predicted. None of us climb into the cube optical illusion, we just take in the views and agree that the illusion would not in fact be fun to walk through.

***

We leave through the main hall. I remember From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler and all the joy and wonder it brought me the first time I read it. We walk and do a drive by of J.Crew. Nothing, so we hop a crosstown bus to the train to Lincoln Center, where we meet K’s sister J, who is adorable and wonderful and I am so excited to reunite with. We laugh some more.

***

We go to jalapeno’s. We get margaritas and nachos, and we laugh. We talk about K until she no longer wants to talk about K, so we switch topics. We talk about J, we talk and SS, we talk about grad school and doctorate programs and life and work and everything. We talk about boys. Not much has changed, really.

***

D comes in. What are you doing? he asks. We’re being alone, together.

***

We go home, get pretty, head to dinner with J and K’s mom. The sky is swelling, swelling, and as we arrive the sky explodes over the city but luckily, not us. It’s a celebration of all the wonderful things to come. We eat delicious food, surrounded by a perfect, wonderful vibe, and order dessert, yes we do.

***

We head to the Beer Garden, and order beers. This is exactly what Munich was like, I tell J. Exactly. We drink and laugh at a table with strangers, surrounded by twentysomethings enjoying their Friday night just like us. This is perfect.

***

Do you mind if I come running? says D on Saturday morning. I warn him I’m slow. I warn him I will slow him down. I warn him I am infinitely slower than he ever was. And he still comes. For this, I am happy. I am happy to have a partner. So you need an appointment, I hear, at J.Crew Bridal? he says as we walk. Dumb. And I agree. I shave 1 minute off my 2.5 mile time.

***

We get coffee. We go to the farmer’s market, and get vegetables, something I feel like I haven’t see in days. We make eggs and veggies with wilted arugula, and we sit and eat, and are happy. K is off at a party (a themed party with funny hats and tea sandwiches) so we eat, and we relax, before heading off on the train to M. We go to a souvenir shop, and try not to judge as others slowly search for something perfect around them. We are in and out. We are fast, we are not tourists, we are part of the city, the living and the breathing each day. The wind blows, and I smell it: autumn is on the heels of these heat waves.

***

We get iced coffees in Grand Central, on the lower level I’ve never been to. I think, what a lucky life to have two iced coffees in one day.

***

The train ride is perfect, beautiful. K gets on half way. We watching the river, and the trees, the fisherman, the boats, we go by a sunken castle. K and SS say the castle’s story is boring, an old armory, but I think it looks magical, and reminds me of Germany and riding the train through Bavaria.

***

We arrive, and M picks us up. We head to her home, meet the cats, and H, more importantly. We laugh and talk and hug, and then we head to her work where we eat all the desserts she brings us. We chat with our bartender, who lived in LA for three years, and laughs along with us. California has nothing on NY, says SS. Well, she wins on weather, and produce, says K. SS isn’t convinced.

***

We progress through the restaurant, patio to bar to lounge, and suddenly it is time to go, too quickly, too soon. We make the train because H drives us over in his convertible, and I see the big dipper, right side up. Home. I am happy to see it the way I always remember, not askew half-way upside down in the sky, down on the 34th latitude. It’s surprising what a difference these six latitudes make.

***

We are home. Can we watch sharks? asks K. And so, we do. Stuffed, happy, we watch the shark countdown.

***

We wake up, and repeat: coffee. We go to Deluxe for brunch, passing Seinfeld’s restaurant on our way, the tourists snap, snap, snapping. I am four bites in when I realize I am eating something I did not order. The iced coffee is divine.

***

We walk home, slowly, stretching the moments. We chat and play cards, rummy, always rummy, until K departs for the train, and suddenly I am in Boston circa Real World in that fire house, the last day where everyone leaves until there is one left. K heads for the train, after hugs, and I love yous, and we are sad, but have an afternoon to burn.

***

We lounge. We go to the pharmacy, where Obamacare means SS’s prescription is free! “I love Obama! I love Obamacare!” I yell, to no one in particular. The pharmacist smiles. “Yea, Obamacare!” says SS. We head to Whole Foods, and I have the system down now. We round out our salad lunch, and head home.

***

We make giant salads, because we need vegetables, and now.

We talk Lola on a walk. We discuss what we’re going to do with our lives. We talk about Obama, the world, happiness, boys. Nothing has changed. We discuss why women seem to hate each other several times, making each other subscribe to things deemed tradition. We walk by several of these “traditions,” a baby shower in the park at high noon when it’s eighty degrees.

***

We head home. I repack. I check in. I change. SS walks me to the train. We hug, and I get on the train, then the plane. I miss them all already.

***

My plane ride turns into this and I get home at 3:30 am. Despite this, I am happy on Monday morning, ready for the week. SS and K and M and D and J have recharged my batteries. This is how quarterlife is supposed to be.