Zach and I went to New York last week, spending about two and a half days there. It was perfect timing: just after some rain and early enough in the summer that the sun was shining but the temperature wasn’t unbearable. We spent our days walking, visiting museums, taking naps, and eating.
It’s cliche to say you need a vacation, but I’ve been needing a vacation a lot more than I realized. I’m good at compartmentalizing the horror of the world, but lately the sheer insanity of things has been getting to me. By the end of the week I feel stretched too thin, like taffy pulled through a machine. I keep searching for some sort of logical through line that can describe things; some point of knowledge or fact that can make sense of the seemingly nonsensical.
In New York, we visit the MOMA and a man wearing a blazer sits next to us at the cafe and strikes up a conversation. He tells us about moving to the city from a rural state, about loving the art, and the queer culture. He asks if Austin has any good museums and I tell him the truth: no, our city really lacks the basics.
I have an over planning problem when I go on vacation. It’s a condition I’ve developed from my mother’s constant nagging desire to ensure everyone’s “having a good time.” On this vacation I tried to pull myself out of that by focusing less on having to do something and more on wanting to do something. Zach helps a lot with that. He’s easy-going and less concerned about seeing landmarks and tourist attractions. His ideal vacation is hanging around in a nice hotel room and leisurely walking the streets in search of something sweet.
This was my third time in new york in three decades, a fact I don’t internalize until Zach tells the man at the MOMA I’ve been here before. When I was younger my mother would travel two or three times a month, mostly to New York. She did little but work and often ended up eating at the Olive Garden in Times Square. As children we go with her and, during the day, stay at a daycare full of children convinced we ride to school on horses. On the weekend we visit the toy stores and attend a game at Yankee Stadium, hiking to the very top to watch with the drunk super fans.
I’ve been thinking a lot about leaving Austin. I’ve lived here for a decade now and the summer heat gets harder to handle each year. Plus, I crave something other than driving everywhere. It’s hard though. Everyone I know lives here. My entire family lives in Texas and now, my brother is getting married and talking about buying a house and having a kid.
“Just go,” he tells me. “We can visit every two months.” And though I admire his commitment, I’m not sure everything is ever so simple.