Kahlil And The Sunset

Yesterday I went to New York to hang out with a friend of mine, but as soon as I got into town, I received a text saying she had to work overtime and would not be able to make it. So I did something I often do. I went to a bookstore. I left the bookstore with a massive book filled with the works of Kahlil Gibran. I walked across Lower Manhattan then over the Brooklyn Bridge with the book in my hand. When I got to the Brooklyn end of the bridge, I thought I should go to my favorite restaurant in the world, a little Middle Eastern mom and pop joint in Broobklyn Hieghts. When I got there, I sat down at the table, and the waiter, a friendly chatty guy from Lebanon, came up to take my order, and asked my why he hadn't seen me there in a while. I apologized for having not been there in about a year. Then I realized something. My waiter was from Lebanon, then became an American. Kahlil Gibran was from Lebanon, then became an American. I ate a plate full of some of the best food I have had in a very long time... since the last time I ate there. And as they always do there, the waiter set a plate down with a brick oven baked pita shaped like a baloon, then poked a small hole in it, so it would slowly deflate into the usual flat shape that we all expect pita to be. As I sipped on my thick Turkish coffee, and my glass of blended fruit juices and yogurt, dipping my pita in hummus and other dipy-like things, eating various salads and kalamata olives, and listening to the Arabic folk music in the background, I went back and forth between the Kahlil Gibran book, the food and chatting with the waiter.

After all that and a little baklava, I went around the corner to the Brooklyn Hieghts Promenade, a beautiful walkway overlooking the East River, the Brooklyn Bridge, and the New York Harbor, directly across from the Manhattan skyline. After a short walk, I sat down on a bench to read some of the beautiful poetry in the book I bought earlier. As I sat there reading, children played and talked in many languages while their tired mothers rested on the benches, lovers strolled together, and a model kept posing nearby with the skyline in the background for a photographer who kept giving her instructions in Turkish. After a while I took a break from my book just in time to see the sunset. It caused, for just a moment, all the skyscrapers across the water in Manhattan, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Statue of Liberty, and all the old brownstone houses behind me to turn bright orange, then deep red. Everyone, all the playing children, all the tired mothers, all the strolling lovers, everyone accept the Turkish model stood still and watched the sun disappear behind New Jersey. And then it was all over and the lights of the skyline and the bridge began to light up. Then I went down to the most beautiful little park on the water front below the promenade. It wasn't there when I was there just a year ago. It was just ugly old rotting docks. But now it has been transformed into the prettiest little hills, walkways, ponds, and landscaping right at the foot of the bridge with a breathtaking view of Manhattan. It was a good day.