From JFK.

My flight arrived at JFK around 9pm last night. For the life of me, I can't ever remember to book a car home from this airport when I fly in, and the taxi line is always bananas on Sundays. I didn't make it home until after 11pm, but I do love that drive. 

Car window breezes remind me of family road trips that we took growing up - to Virginia, to North Dakota, to Vermont in my dad's 1916 Model T. It's so easy for me to go back to what it felt like to be eleven, wearing platform flip-flops and listening to Celine Dion's Let's Talk About Love CD (I was really good at belting "Tell Him". I was also super cool.) 

And now. Now, there's New York. And there's nothing quite like the sound of the city through an open car window on a summer night to remind you that you're completely, wonderfully alive. 

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