There was a story this week on the cities with the happiest residents. The top three were in Louisiana; the city with the most unhappy people was said to be New York.
It is foolish to say, “How is it possible?” because we are a city of millions, with millions of different histories, millions of different dreams, and with different hands dealt to us. I am fortunate, and I recognize that every day. But I also enjoy my days and there is no time I love my city more than during the summer.
The day starts with a walk in the park where I have pockets of garden flowers that fill me with joy.
There are the baseball games with school kids and grown kids, the families settled in for a happy afternoon with picnics and folding chairs.
And there is my Oliver who finds, in every season, some aspect of the park to love. Now it is the long grasses, the shade, and the rocks that are cool on the tummy.