The New York of My Childhood

If you find yourself on the corner of 9th Ave and 47th street, look up. Above the Kiehl's. There's a brick wall painted yellow. And there's a faint, peeling outline of a couple riding on a bicycle. And next to them, behind the branches of the tree, there's the little girl I wanted to be when I was young.

She looks to be about 9. She's more faded than her parents now. She has pigtails. She's riding her own bike but she's not holding on. She's balancing. I've tried to recreate this many a time and only gotten my hands to hover briefly off the handlebars. But that's not the point. 

That used to be a bike store on that corner. I passed it everyday walking to kindergarten. Ninth avenue used to be a slew of family-run stores and restaurants. I used to know every storefront on that stretch of the city. They turn over so frequently now that you have to carefully pick your landmarks because they won't all last. 

This is coming off more melancholic than I intended. I'm not lamenting the loss of 90's New York in its entirety. There were bad things about it too. But I am lamenting the loss of 90's Hell's Kitchen. It was a quiet, family neighborhood. It was a great place to grow up. And when I stand on the corner of 9th and 47th and see the girl on the bike, I like to remember it. 

Can you see her? Maybe just her jeans.