A beautiful day

I am sitting at the South Street Seaport, typing this on my Blackberry. About 70 feet or so in front of me is the place where I first kissed my ex-wife, the same place where I proposed to her. It has been nearly 8 years since that first kiss, and 7 1/2 since the proposal.

Today is a beautiful day. I walked here from the West Side, taking a leisurely stroll around the southern tip of Manhattan. I needed to get out. Moving the body clears the mind.

I came here not because of its significance to my failed marriage, but because I like it here. There aren't many places in Manhattan where you can sit back and let your eyes focus on the horizon, or at least on something more distant than the next corner.

I need to rebuild now. The house burned down, the fires are all out, and the rubble is getting cleared away. I need to lay a new foundation. Make new friends and meet new people. Not to replace old ones, but to start the process of reinventing myself.

Eventually I'll be ready to date again. My experiences have not made me cynical about love or relationships. On the contrary, having tasted true love, I now understand its importance for me.

But there is still work to do. There is still a life to rebuild. I am looking forward to getting underway with the reconstruction.