It was my first time leaving the apartment since the move-in five days earlier. A gray divorce and the sale of the colonial I called home for 25 years brought me here.
Numbness bubble-wrapped my fragile heart.
The small space was a minefield of half-unpacked boxes, filled with items in need of a new setting. My dazed mind now desperate for some fresh air to help clear it.
Walking along Riverside Boulevard, I came to the spot where I had once stood assessing the building I would soon reside in. Behind me, parents and children from the surrounding high-rises mingled in the colorful playground area.
I approached a black chain-link fence that seemed to mark the end of the park—and looked down. Below me stretched a vast oasis of grass, trees, and trails along the Hudson River, with a pier jutting out into the swirling water.
How did I miss this during my apartment hunt?
Maybe it was a mirage—something my exhausted brain conjured up to distract me from the realities of post-divorce life.
With the euphoria of someone discovering a rare coin at a tag sale, I bounded down a long, winding path and into another world. One filled with runners and bikers gliding past strollers with babies, and dogs walking their humans. Yoga enthusiasts contorting into pretzels. City dwellers perched on benches, admiring the parade of boats and birds drifting along the water.
This magical place—unknown to me until I stepped into it—offers an indispensable escape.
A frequently visited sanctuary, just steps from my new home.
INSTANT NOODLES 