I Heart Initials Of Major American Cities

When I was a child, I would sometimes watch the morning news
with my mom. I would sit down next to her in front of, not on, our
light blue couch, the one with the canary yellow foam stuffing peeking
out of the arms because the cat evidently wasn't a fan of living room’s feng shui and occasionally decided to do a little remodeling,
Jason Voorhees-style. Mom would drink her customary 8 AM diet coke through a bendy straw with two green stripes on either side of it. That can of diet coke never fell,ever, even when it was five-sixths empty because mom poured it into a travel mug that she never left the house with, why did she do that, well it was classy, yet still that can was erect. Defiantly standing tall on the carpet it would dare the cat to come and sniff it, come on, do your worst. She noshed on an un-toasted package of cinnamin pop-tarts (toasting pop-tarts is bourgeois-who has the time?) and
bemoan the amount of ironing she had to do later as the dark-haired
sports announcer threw the broadcast on over to the interracial
co-anchors. Then mom's domestic diatribe would end and the room would
be filled with nothing but the sound of traffic hundreds of miles away.
Mom was silent because the weather was coming on. But I was in awe of
that four-second clip of the New York City skyline.

Orange light radiated from behind buildings I'd only seen up
close once, when I was very young, I couldn't remember anymore, but I
was there, once, looking up at those buildings that eclipsed the orange
burst of sun that had me mesmerized. Cars and people bustled and cursed
and drank coffee, yes, even the cars were caffinated, why not, it was
New York City, and nothing ever stopped honking and buzzing and
whirring and shoving and climbing and being a bridge. The bridge! There
were several, and they all lit up and held more cars than even my
little brother's tub of Hotwheels did. What a place! And suddenly those
four seconds were over and the frowny-faced clouds would appear above
guesses at the coming week's highs and lows, obscuring the skyline, but who really needs to know if it’s colder today than it has been since 1928,
anyway? Still, that slate grey sunrise would buzz in my mind long after
mom shut off the TV and told me to finish up my cereal (cookie crisp-
it's cookies, for breakfast!).

One morning I tried to put into words all of the excitement
that that my elementary school mind couldn't quite express.

"I think...it feels like New York...it's special."

Mom put her soda can atop a Good Housekeeping magazine she had
next to her. She lowered the volume on the television, and turned to
face me. Her eyes looked me over for a long moment, bearing an unidentifiable expression.

"Of course it does, you live here. Stupid fuck."