From the Archives: July 23, 2002 - Age 26

Today I was looking out the window of my office, down 8 stories to 60th Street, where the cars, trucks, and busses were congregating. The street drew my attention because of a commotion—a fire truck trying to navigate the traffic, sirens screaming, one of those double-decker open top tourist busses blocking the way. The most immediate color was yellow—taxicabs cruising by despite the jam. Eventually the fire truck slipped through and rumbled off to its destination, yet I did not turn away from the scene. I was not really looking at anything specific any longer, absorbed instead in the thought that there I was, looking out over midtown Manhattan, at my job, in my city. Though it has been a year now, there are still moments that I am amazed that I am here, in a place I never predicted nor expected to become my home. A smile and a shake of my head in wonder, and then back to my desk I went.