Ah, there’s nothing quite like when the 1 train emerges from the underground at 125th street and Broadway. It is one of my favorite things.
You know I love it as much as Paris on a Sunday morning? It’s wonderful. I get to drink my coffee and have a view of the river with Harlem bustling behind me. It’s just so sunny up on the platform and there’s something about the way the light glimmers in the subway car windows.
People read their newspapers and books and scroll social media. Kids finish their homework and others bop their heads to music. People like me gaze out the window while intermittently looking down to add to what they hope will be the next great American novel. And others who are unburdened by the incessant need to “do” sit quietly, maybe or maybe not mindfully, observing their surroundings.
Rising from the tunnels at 125th street is often what makes me happy I got out of bed in the morning and I’m not ashamed of it. It reminds me of the little things and how important they are.
The little things, like the smell of hot coffee brewing in the morning, no matter how cheap. The little things, like a small note from someone you care about or a rose from your beloved. The little things, like a glimmer of mental clarity as you walk down the street and remember who you are.
The little things are what shine light on the the darkest corners of our world. And, ah, there’s nothing quite like when the 1 train emerges from the underground at 125th street and Broadway.