
At the End of the A Train
Sometimes inspiration facing our biggest choices can come in simple, subtle moments.
I made it down all 94 steps at 215th St. to Broadway to find the A train in Inwood. It was more challenging then going up hours earlier in the bright sunlight. Then, I was headed up to my sister and family’s new garden apartment. I was excited to surprise them by trying to get Goldie and Blair to stop lunging erratically stepping in front of anyone trying to “walk” them, especially up and down these steps. I was looking forward to facilitating a heroic transformation from stressful wrangling to enjoyable stroll. The new ordeal was necessitated by the move to apartment living in Manhattan. No longer did the two big dogs have a doggie door accessible, large yard, suburban, carefree, poop at will situation in New Jersey. Now, both dogs and humans had to go for a twice daily regimen of vigilant baggie outfitted walks, the pups going on demand at the end of a leash, no matter the weather in New York City or how busy the humans happened to be.
Now, later, mission accomplished, I left the dogs with my sister, walking peaceably in line with new leashes and head halters. I was headed back to the A train to my mom’s apartment way down at 14th St. It was dark, close to midnight, getting colder and windy. The streets were more deserted on the last few blocks away from Broadway. I felt hesitant, alone, more vulnerable, aware of the big, dark, city around me.
Before Broadway, I tried to stride purposefully towards the station arriving at the steps. They were a more direct path, but also more difficult. I had to step deliberately not to antagonize my 61 year old knees. Down was worse then up.
The steps were not the only challenge I was negotiating tonight.
I was also deliberating giving up my and my own dogs’ safe and enclosed yard for the adventure of New York City. I had lived in Mesa Arizona for 22 years and now considered a move to the Big Apple, an unpredictable, risky new adventure. It would not be easy, selling my house and facing all the scary complications moving cross country, and starting over. I would have to commit too to strengthening my knees for a twice daily dog potty expedition. Here winter waited, these stairs would get treacherous at times.
Gingerly I headed down step by step. My knees were doing ok tonight. I made it to Broadway without incident and headed down the street to the Subway, still wary. Someone caught my eye and waved. It was the proprietor of the coffee shop and her companion walking their dog. She smiled, recognizing me from earlier today. I had stopped to buy an iced coffee. She asked me what part of Mexico I was from, my Arizona instilled Spanish belaying a false Mexicaña identity. I had laughed and told her I was a gringa, nacido en Brooklyn! I waved back. The dark streets seemed a little friendlier now.
I realized that being near my family would give me a chance to be part of their daily life. My sister and I could walk each other’s dogs, and borrow eggs from each other. My mom would be at the end of a cross town subway ride, not a 2000 mile cross country plane flight. Maybe here in the vibrant melange of people I could find a tribe, other creative “weirdos” and even a partner, no longer such an outlier as in Arizona.
I arrived safely on the A train platform. There were 3 trains waiting. People sitting in each of them. I knew this late the trains left only every 15 or 20 minutes to go Downtown. In one of the trains an interesting looking guy smiled at me. I stuck my head in to the car and asked him how to tell which train to board. He laughed and pointed out the illuminated sign at the far end of the station down the tracks. “Next” it said with a lit up arrow pointing to the train he was sitting on. I got in, sitting near him. His eyes crinkled as I smiled back. He was reading a book I found intriguing, and I relaxed as we began to talk. New York was not such a cold place. Maybe I could fit in, even at midnight, at the end of the A. Or maybe it was the beginning.
