Outside my window on a Wednesday night at midnight.

It's dark outside, but the night is lit up by the neon shop signs and street lights. There is the consistency of noise. It doesn't seem to matter what time it is, there are always people on the sidewalks talking, laughing, playing music. Right now it just feels like disturbance. I wonder about these (mostly) men who stand on corners and hang out with their chums. What would it be like to put on my big warm coat with the hood, a hat, some gloves and go stand out there with them? I want to feel their camaraderie, be a part of someone's group. But it wouldn't work. You can't just step into someone's life and expect to be accepted. Sort of like moving to New York City. A city of 8 million souls, all wanting to be a part of something, to experience human touch.

I warned myself when I moved here that the biggest, most inhabited places can be the loneliest. The more people there are, the more isolated you can feel. Who do you talk to? The cashier who rings up my hummus and bag of carrots in the corner grocery, the street vendor selling the daily fruit and vegetables, the guy who repaired my boots, the teller at the bank? Certainly not those with the vacant stares who carefully avoid eye contact on the subway cars.

I am forgetting to remember who I am, who I was when I lived in the Midwest, home for 46 years. Who was I there? It's been so long since I felt I could apply a descriptive title. Wife, art director, mom, daughter, sister, neighbor. Maybe it's too much to leave a place where all the roots of your life are embedded. We lived in Florida near the beach for less than a year when I was in sixth grade. I never understood why we moved back. I think I do now.

I find that I'm suddenly prone to anxiety attacks that occur for no apparent reason, keeping me from going out. I find excuses to just stay in. Going out seems a burden, a chore. I think having a job, a career kept me grounded in reality. Without it, I feel lost. New York has much to offer, but just not a job. 

Hey, this is no pity party. It's my reflective mood at midnight. Maybe things will look better outside my window when the sun comes up.