Times Square

I feel at home with the sounds of the beeping horns, the neon lights, the people pushing each other down the streets, the vendors bundled in winter jackets selling scarves, purses, watches, wooden plaques that they will monogram for you.

I feel small looking up at the high-rise buildings,

hundreds of windows,

doormen standing in front of hotels.

My favorite places in Times Square,

the most beautiful,

are the theatres, standing proudly and brightly along the streets.

The Palace, the Gershwin, the Neil Simon.

Who would have thought that one building could hold so much talent?

Looking up at the marquees, the cast pictures blown up on the walls,

I stop and stare.

I will be up on those walls one day, I envision,

And I picture myself walking out of the stage door rather than standing eagerly behind the barricade.

I may live in Chicago, the Windy City,

but my heart lives in New York.