Walking on the Upper West Side this morning brought back memories of living here as a small child for less than a year. We lived in a brownstone near Central Park and I remember loving to climb on the rocks there. (I also remember having to really watch where I stepped because there were dog feces literally everywhere on the sidewalk.)

And I remember a butcher shop where there was always sawdust on the floor and a man who gave my brother and I a slice of baloney whenever we went there with my mom.

Lots has changed since then, but not my feelings about large masses of people. I’ve been told that my first words at seeing Times Square were “too many people”. I still feel that way about NYC in general. My refuge has always been Central Park.

I’m looking forward to a desert hike up in the hills upon returning to Tucson.

Hopefully, that will be soon.

It’s hard to care for someone when one isn’t comfortable in the setting.

This has been one of the hardest periods of my life – torn between my mother and my son (who is not happy to be here). I’m so grateful to have a good friend taking care of my dogs at home. I miss them a lot.

On my better days I can recognize that all I can do is try to navigate life’s river to the best of my abilities. On my worse days I do a lot of internal swearing and external crying.

Today on my walk, I spotted this bench.

The weather has been typical end of winter with snow, rain, and cold. And I’m glad I was here with my mom for the blizzard.

I went out the other night in search of the moon and after accepting that I was on the wrong side of the island, I finally found a spot on the end of a pier where I could see her.