I wake each morning multiple times, programmed by my life as a mother to wake early, but not minding because I feel for all the world that I’m in waking up in a flat in Europe. I take in the birds singing in the majestic row house courtyard that exists just on the other side of our windowside bed here on the well-appointed third floor, and breathe in the scent of strong coffee brewing in the kitchen two floors below.
Having chosen the most private B&B imaginable, I make my way to the Breakfast Room, where I put on the Bach Concertos 1 & 2 cd and make my own coffee from the fresh grounds that were brought up while we slept. I peek into the cloth-covered basket to see what kind of bread is on offer today, and decide to sit by the large arched window and wait for my own strong coffee to brew before making my choice: croissant, raisin walnut bun, or maybe just yogurt with granola, all of which are laid out for us.
This is how we begin our days in New York City. Days that are filled with adventure: a subway ride from which we can spot the Statue of Liberty if we look at just the right minute, playing with friends and their kids in Prospect Park, a couple of hours walking around Central Park in 74 degree weather, shopping in Soho, incredible dinners, and a cannoli out on a busy sidewalk in Little Italy on a gorgeous night.
And later we come back to this home away from home, where we can spread out among our three rooms and two baths, and the owners – whom we haven’t laid eyes on since we arrived – remain in their own quarters, only coming and going when we are out or sleeping.
Matt has suggested that I organize my New York posts “McDonald’s-style” and write separate posts in the categories of Food, Folks, and Fun. This may be the first time I emulate that particular establishment in any way, but I like it.
For now, though, the coffee’s hot and we have a day to begin.