My family and I went to New York City last weekend.
We were overdue for a visit.
We spent the first day circumnavigating the Borough of Queens in an attempt to visit all of my in-laws in one day. We lucked out with sunny and warm weather. It was great to see our country kids bonding with their city cousins on the playground.
The next day we went to the Met.
That place is nuts.
There is soooooo much to see.
We did our best to cram in as much viewing as we could.
I had been there many times before, but I had never taken my kids. It was like seeing it all new again. Due to the unseasonably warm weather we had the treat of going up to the roof garden, which has a beautiful view of Central Park and the city.
We headed back to my brother and sister-in-law's in time for the Patriots game.
Even though I love the Pat's, I didn't come all the way to NYC to sit and watch a regular season game when I can do that on any given Sunday on my couch at home.
So, I took the girl on a long (Sunday schedule plus construction) subway ride downtown.
We went to Zuccotti Park.
I figured we should check out the protest while we were in town. The best thing about that was having to get my thoughts together enough to explain to my almost ten-year-old what the people were protesting.
On our way back to the subway, we caught a glimpse of the setting sun reflecting off the new World Trade Center tower.
For a moment I thought of making a left turn and heading towards the memorial. My head was already swirling from an overstimulating weekend and the second-hand smoke at the protest. I knew I wasn't ready to go there.
I don't know if I ever will be.