Sometimes It's Just Like This

I got up out of my seat and walked to the window of the train car as it slid aboveground. The Statue of Liberty caught my eye more than usual. Taking in its green-blue stance, backgrounded by the bluebottle sky, I thought about the ship my grandparents sailed on to Ellis Island. I saw the statue in their eyes for a few seconds and saw two lines converge: Almost a hundred years ago, they disembarked as children here, giving me life, what they might have one day hoped would be a good one.

And suddenly I felt it is. It is a very good one.

The two lines raced toward each other, thin as wire, and touched their tips together for a few electric moments. I felt happy to be older today; I am happy to feel loved; I am surprised to realize there might be 33 more years to get to do it all again, but not just again. More so.