I’ve traveled a lot this summer: to Croatia, where hubby and I biked up multiple, and very challenging, hills; Amsterdam, where, ironically, we did no biking at all; the Berkshires – biking again, also eating at our favorite Italian restaurant and sampling Chardonnay at our favorite winery with a view; and, finally, Cape May, which we’ve visited each summer for over 30 years and always refer to as our “happy place.”

BUT…

As I sit before my window overlooking Riverside Park the morning after returning from the last trip – as I have, really, after every trip over the years – I think, no, THIS is my true “Happy Place.” From my breakfast table, I can see a hawk, wings spread majestically, swooping overhead. A helicopter noises by and two airplanes cross, one far from the other. Below, a small tugboat nudges a huge barge upriver, as jet skiers speed by it, making waves. A trio of sailboats flutters past, noiselessly. Alongside the park, a man in a deep green shirt walks by holding an equally green umbrella as protection against the sun. A couple sits, snuggled, on a bench. The waters of the Hudson roll and sparkle. I’m home.