We arrived on a hot Thursday morning (the day of my birthday) and began our weekend of joint birthday celebrations with lunch at Gemma. After lunch the heat was still showing no signs of letting up so we ran up to our room, changed into some breezy outfits and headed out hand in hand. We just walked and talked, took in the views, the scents. When a city gets this hot every scent becomes sharper - tires and asphalt, cologne or body odor (with some it's hard to say which one is worse), overripe melons roasting on green shelving outside bodegas, halal carts and cigarettes. And though the smells are mostly bad the sounds I love. The tinkling of bicycle bells, the faint and sometimes not so faint sound of a car horn, the buzz of conversation, the sound of music emanating from an open door or fire escape, the clap clap clap of feet on the sidewalk and the whoosh of air conditioners beneath it all. I like that you can travel to so many different cities and yet when you close your eyes they all sound the same, that standard hum. 

Instead of rain, however, the next morning we were met with the coolest breeze and quiet city streets. We grabbed a bagel uptown, meandered through Zabar's and picked up some cookies from Levain. And just as the beautiful morning sky turned dark again, threatening rain, we jumped inside MoMA. It was the perfect place to wait out the rain and we left each having learned or seen something new. Later that evening we took in the fireworks show (all thirty minutes of it - good job NYC!!) and looked at photos of our baby because by this point we were missing her terribly. It's funny the way as a parent you can appreciate time away from your child and miss them horribly right in the same instant. We loved, loved, loved feeling young and romantic, holding hands next to flickering candles at tiny tables in dimly lit restaurants but we would often find ourselves saying "I wish Birdie was here" or "Birdie would love this," all the while knowing that if Birdie was there she would probably spit out the food we would try to feed her, demand a show on our phones and generally prevent any type of meaningful conversation from happening between us. So even the most wonderful of experiences are somewhat bittersweet without your child because you're having a great time but you also wish they were there (and you also know better! oy!!!).