The first place I lived in New York City was a boarding house. This was the late 1980s, and for $300 a month I got a room with a bed on legs and a desk beneath. The bathroom was down the hall. A woman cooked for the twenty of us who called it home and we ate at a communal table. My first night, I laid in bed and felt I was the luckiest person in the world. I’d carved out a small corner of Manhattan. I belonged. • Now I live ten minutes away in an apartment that I only dreamed of then. My wife and I are fortunate. Our home has been a haven in which to isolate as covid has ravaged NYC. We have a view similar to Jimmy Stewart’s in Rear Window: we look onto gardens of brownstones. We’ve watched Spring bring it all to life. I even hung a bird feeder off our fire escape. One day, a downy woodpecker stopped by, his shock of red feathers fluttering in the wind. Who knew there’re woodpeckers in Manhattan? In the stillness of the city, new characters take the stage. • A few nights ago we went to the local hospital, to clap. As people gathered, a NYPD cop appeared on a black horse. He clip-clopped into the middle of 7th Ave, and stopped the few cars on the street. Just then, a bell tolled and people began to clap. The health workers came out. And just then, too, a truck with giant speakers pulled up blaring “New York, New York,” by Sinatra. I know: it sounds like something out of a movie. But what else is life in New York but a movie, with incredible highs and heartbreaking lows? We stood there, all of us, masked and clapping, the music pushing us on, lifting us up. “I’m gonna make a brand new start of it...” The tiny old lady next to me banged her battered cane against a garbage can. Clang! Clang! A horse whinnied and I saw the cop on his horse, rearing up in the middle of 7th. Then I looked at my wife. Two masked faces, only our tear-filled eyes visible. I said, “I love this f’ing city. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” “Me, either,” she said. • That night, as laid in bed, I felt the way I did my first night in Manhattan at that boarding house. Like I was the luckiest person in the world. • We’re going to be alright. All of us.