1. Throw caution to the wind. Lazy morning. Late afternoon nap. Early evening coffee. Don’t watch the sky…..
2. Pick a spot. Any spot. A magical, timeless, chaotic, New York spot. Take the train. Ride it slow. Sing songs. make friends. Watch the raindrops slide across the Q train windows.
3. Let your 7-year-old believe it is her rain song that clears the sky. “One more round!” she says. To solidify it, of course.
4. Invite cousins. Everything is better with family.
5. Play all the games. Eat the junk. Don’t question a damn thing. It is Coney Island. It’s still summer.
6. When the rain stops and goes and stops and goes, don’t run for cover. Get soaked, and dance in front of the bumper cars.
7. On the way home, when it’s 9 PM and they’re delusional and high off sugar and rides, tiny bodies curled and stretched on the train seat, heads on your laps, hands shielding their eyes from the light, remind yourself it was worth it. When the stranger offers take a bag or a child as you exit the train, remember that there is good. So much good.
And when you’re tucking them in, and they declare that maybe this was the best night ever (as if they haven’t declared it before) kiss them, agree, promise to do it again.