Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Fourth of the fourth

I am loving all of the tagging going on around these parts, keep it up and I won't actually have to think of something to post for myself for a good few weeks.

I was tagged by Vanessa of the fabulous Stopping to Eat the Roses to share the fourth photo from the fourth folder on my computer. This is what I found....

In June of 2005 The Boy and I spent five days in New York City. I loved it, never have I felt more at home in a place and if I could afford to and The Boy didn't become apoplectic at the thought of moving house and it not being to the countryside, I would be there in a heartbeat.

On our last day in the city we went to Coney Island. It was the evening, it was getting dark. It was quiet and almost completely deserted. It was magical...

"America has built for herself a Palace of Illusion, and filled it with every species of talented attractive monster, every misbegotten fancy of frenzied nerves, every fantastic marvel of the moonstruck brain - and she has called it Coney Island."
Richard Le Galliene, "Human Need of Coney Island." The Cosmopolitan, V.39 No. 3 (July 1905)

Our five days in New York were the start of a month long adventure for me and even longer for The Boy. We went from there to Connecticut, where for ten days The Boy helped his parents prepare their new boat for a voyage across the Atlantic. At the last minute before we were to leave for two weeks in Berkeley, he decided to go with them. I travelled back to New York and across the country to California by myself and I spent two wretched weeks in Berkeley before heading home across the Atlantic alone. As I flew over the ocean I knew that my boy was down there, somewhere. And a small, scared part of me doubted that I'd ever see him again. The boat had no communications on board, I had no idea where he was, how he was, whether they were still afloat. As the days after they were supposed to be home ticked by and the phone didn't ring, I curled up with my computer and read the New York Times online. I fantasised about living in the city that had felt like home and I stared at the map of the world that hung on our wall. I drew a boat on it and I wondered where he was. Then, one day, ten days late the phone rang. It was him and I couldn't believe it. Alive, coming home, tales of being lost in the ocean, a broken boat, never again.