Walking and Remembering with Lyna

From my apartment in Morningside Heights down Riverside Park, a friend and I walked to Lincoln Center and then back uptown again.  In total, maybe 100 blocks.  The air was soupy and all evening it tried to rain. It was a lovely walk -- Riverside Park is greener when the weather is dismal -- the canopy of leaves on the promenade seems to darken in the humidity.

In February, I was so distraught over being pregnant and the only thing I could think to do was to bundle myself up in a down coat and walk down the promenade.  I lodged my earphones into place and played the music as loud as it would go.  And then I'd walk to nowhere. 

I pointed out to Lyna various sites in the park where I had a memory of something. I told her about the pregnant winter walks and we both laughed. She understand the desperation. She was kind to me and listened. Actually, I think she likes my down moods.  She compares the last seven months of my life to hers.  The only thing we have in common is joblessness but she finds similarities anyway.  

There are times when I am resentful of everyone even when I appreciate them the most.  How can Lyna compare her unrequited fantasy love to my abortion? Then again, why do I think my abortion and eventual relationship fail trumps all sorrow?  Isn't that arrogant?  Who's to say whose loss is greater? A little perceptive is necessary on both our parts maybe.  I need to realize that most people have no empirical knowledge of what has happened, that they have their own sorrows.

We walked to the 68th Street pier and looked out on the Hudson River.  We watched the kayakers paddling against the tide.  I didn't mention to Lyna that was one of the first things the ex and I did when we first started dating. I told her about all the other times I went kayaking instead.

The last time I walked that far south was right before the breakup.  It was just a few weeks after the abortion and I don't remember much of what I was thinking or doing. I didn't know at that time that in a few weeks, I would walk away from that relationship. Run.  Maybe that's a better word for it.  Not without regret or doubt. Not without one unsuccessful last appeal to the ex.  Then I ran and now I wonder how long I'm going to have to keep running.

Who would have thought that four months later, I would walk the same route and end up at the same spot with a different life? Why did I want to do it?