January 31st, Central Park, sunny and 57 degrees. Oh, to be a poet. I would describe how it felt to walk through the park, not wanting to be inside, anywhere. Yes, even with the Metropolitan in the background. The benches are full, especially those facing the sun. The groups of school children in matching uniforms are running in clusters while they connect with bursts of their own language. Small children in/on every kind of wheeled device scurry on the trails and walkways. There are gatherings of parents/caregivers watching the children, bikers in shorts and tank tops racing on the roads, toddlers off the path chasing leaves and impromptu games being played on the playing fields. Carl and I marvel at how this is such a different city from when we lived here 1966-72.