Okay, Maybe You Were Right... And Maybe You Weren't

I was just in NYC with my mother, wandering around Manhattan for four days. She wanted to see museums and cathedrals and do lots of touristy things, and I wanted to shop. I'm leaving for college in two weeks, and I won't have many chances to shop out in the boonies. After finding myself unable to avoid visiting at least one church, I grumbled and whined the entire 20 blocks up 7th avenue to the cathedral of St. John the Divine. It was recently devastated by a horrible fire, and only recently has it been restored to it's former glory.

I was not terribly fond of churches as a young girl. They were awfully dark, cramped, and everyone was far too quiet for their own good. As my mother and I approached the cathedral, we paused in the gardens. Besides the twenty-foot-tall statue of St. John, there were countless small sculptures scattered in the lush greens, all made by art students. It was fabulous and fascinating. I took picture after picture, not caring how silly I looked.

After spending more than half an hour in the sweltering heat, we moved to the cathedral for "a brief look around." i was awestruck at the beauty of the cathedral. I could hardly imagine people devoting their entire lives to creating one square foot of the beautiful structure. I reluctantly conceded that maybe, maybe, my mother had been right.

At the same time, something that had seemed far more interesting than sitting in a church for an hour was not so overwhelming. In fact it was quite underwhelming. Walking the high line, an old railroad turned nature-y walking path, has need of some growth. The trees need time to develop and create actual shade, and the plants need time to grow out of their transplanted circles. It was quite pretty, but not the overwhelmingly fabulous journey newspapers hailed it to be.

So it seems sometimes moms can be right, and sometimes they can be a little right. It was enjoyable, but I won't be skipping up the stairs if we go again.