195. Crossing a Threshold – Lindsay Ratowsky
An outtake from the cover shoot for Between Two Kingdoms by Daniel Schechner
I’m struck by the enormity of life contained in every person we pass on that drive home.
It’s a fresh afternoon in March 2022. I’m standing on the curb at Mt. Sinai West Hospital in Manhattan. The baby who had been growing in my body for the past nine months is dressed in a tiny bear suit, sleeping in a car seat at my feet. My wife opens her Lyft app and summons an SUV. She is occupied with which route we’ll take home. I’m staring at my two-day-old daughter, reflecting on what I’ve just been through, wondering about who she has made me.
The three of us load into a black minivan. The driver, a stranger in his fifties, gingerly pulls out of the hospital driveway. At a stoplight, he shows us a photo of his two grandchildren, which assures me we’re in good hands. As we head down the West Side Highway toward Brooklyn, memories of my adult life flicker in full color through my mind, cinematic, almost in slow motion. There’s 27th Street, where I spent many late nights in my early twenties, dancing on banquets. A nautical themed bar, recently closed, where I shared a first kiss with a lovely person who just wasn’t my person. Houston Street, a few blocks from the non-profit office of the job that brought me to this city, eleven years ago. Places that shaped me against the ever-changing landscape of Manhattan.
We cross the Brooklyn Bridge and stop at the traffic light. A thirty-something woman straddling a road bike on the corner awaits her light to turn. I’ve been that woman on so many days–pedaling my light blue, two-wheeled companion through these streets to a work event or dinner with friends, attention focused on whatever story is unspooling through my ear buds, oblivious to the human drama playing out around me. In cars. In apartments. Walking down the street. Completely unaware of life-altering moments they may be experiencing right then, at that very moment.
I am forever changed since the last time I crossed over the historic bridge just a week before. Now, my body in pieces and hormones running wild, I will never be the same. But the woman on the bike in front of me has no idea.
I’m struck by the enormity of life contained in every person we pass on that drive home. The enormity of the change I’ve just experienced. I feel connected to my fellow New Yorkers and I’m shocked we’re all holding it together.
Soon I will see my neighborhood with fresh eyes. I will learn that, while my daughter dozes, I find the clatter and grind of a 12-year-old on a skateboard in the park as loud as the roar of the passing subway train, and that cobblestones are not nearly as romantic while pushing a stroller. That the waterfront is windier and colder than I remembered. I will see my community with fresh eyes as well—my friends, my neighbors, my family. At this threshold, they will witness our transformation. They will help guide us through.
– Lindsay Ratowsky
