Nora Kinkaid Wants Her Life Back

Moynihan Station

It came to me in a vision. I saw myself pulling my rolling bag across the floor of Moynihan Station in New York City. That's where I live - in Manhattan. I should have mentioned that.

In this vision, I'm pulling my bag across the new, glossy polished floors of Moynihan Station which if you know anything about New York, you know it's a freaking delight to do so. By comparison to Penn Station where I used to go, Moynihan is like a palace. It's got this amazing triple height lobby covered in different colors of white and gray marble. There are massive windows and skylights that let the light flood in. On sunny days, which Friday is supposed to be, you can stand at any point in the main rotunda and point your face up to the sky and feel the sun on your cheeks.

I plan on doing that first thing. The second thing I will do is peruse the booksellers and buy a new novel. Then I will stand by the railing all the way over to the left side of the building (Eighth Avenue and Thirty-First street as opposed to Eighth Avenue and Thirty-Fourth). I am going to look up at the sky and let the sun shine down on my face. When I tilt my head back down after a few moments I will hear the call for "Amtrak Acela, 10:22 am to Boston now boarding on Track Thirteen. I will sigh, grab my bag and walk the twenty three feet to the track directly across from me. But I won't make it the full twenty-three feet. At foot number eleven, I will walk smack dab into Oliver.