Last year I was there for Thanksgiving, which was great, but not like what I imagine the real Christmas season in the city to be like: holiday markets, twinkling lights, bedazzled trees, softly falling snow blanketing Central Park. I know that I’m ignoring the in-your-face consumerism aspect of it, and the inevitable face-freezing cold winds and gross gray slush, and all the other things that can get you down in December. But since I am here on the west coast for this holiday season, I have no problem romanticizing my imaginary NYC during Christmastime. I want to skate at Bryant Park, stroll the Union Square Market with a cup of chocolatey coffee in my mittened hand, pick my favorite holiday window display… I won’t get a chance to do all that this year, but I can’t wait to do it someday.
I know that I idealize New York City, and let me tell you, it’s difficult not to idealize a long-distance love. Sure, you can remind yourself all the time of the gritty realities all you want, but without facing them on a day-to-day basis, it’s very easy to let yourself focus on what you imagine, the lovely parts. I’m okay with it. I’ll have a chance to experience all of those things, the good and the bad. For now I’ll focus on the anticipation of the twinkly lights and softly falling snow.