High Expectations

Willow started asking about going to the High Line around March 1st.  "To get a strawberry rhubarb popsicle!"  "To see the flowers!"  "To splash in the water!"  "To hear some music!"



Now I know the High Line is where people who don't live in New York go.  I know this.  But I love it.  It's beautiful, it's clever, it has great food and great street performers, and when it's not overly crowded (haha) it can feel like you're in a secret garden set off from the city.  Plus, you know, they have really good popsicles there.

Maybe it's just something about seeing your kid so delighted.  Within a block or two, we came across our first street performer, an amazing tap dancer.  A few steps later, a cellist.  Then a mime.  Which, okay, not my favorite, but Willow was entranced.  He had a "magic ball" (a la David Bowie in Labyrinth) and a red nose and he made her laugh and jump and want to be a clown when she grew up.

But best of all was the moment when we came across a jazz trio.  And mind you, this was not in any way "easy listening."  Willow halted in her tracks, cocked her head, and listened suspiciously for a minute or two.  And then she went crazy.

 

She danced and jumped and moved in ways we'd never seen before.  It was like Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face. 

 It was wild and free and totally without rhythm or, frankly, grace, but it was beautiful.

We tried and tried for a month to make this visit happen, but something kept getting in the way--weather, illness, etc.--and it is shockingly difficult for us to make such a simple thing happen, but it was totally worth it.

They didn't have the water going yet, though.  Oh well.  We'll just have to go again.