'I kissed him goodbye at Grand Central and started walking'

No tissues

Dear Diary:

I stayed with a friend in Murray Hill while back in New York for a 2019 visit. I came with an old boyfriend. He was a drummer and I went with him to a gig in Brooklyn.

We talked openly, honestly, and deeply on the subway ride back, acknowledging the love that still connected us.

I kissed him goodbye at Grand Central and started walking. I cried loudly. He had been the love of my life and I knew this might be the last time I ever saw him.

My face was soaked and I had no tissues. Hoping to get some napkins, I stopped at a restaurant on Lexington Avenue that I had frequented when I lived in the city.

There was a long line for tables and takeout. I told the people waiting that I wasn't going too far. I just needed some napkins.

“Hey, let her through,” a man in line shouted. “She is crying.”

The crowd gave way and I stepped up to the counter. The manager recognized me as a regular customer.

He handed me a packet of napkins.

“Some nights are tough,” he said. “It will be better.”

– Sandra Eisenberg

Back in town

Dear Diary:

I landed at La Guardia Airport, excited to be greeted by the familiar skyline. I had been away for a year. It felt like a lifetime, but the rhythm of the city quickly came back to me.

When the car I was in got stuck in traffic on 31st Street in Queens, I decided to call.

“L & M Deli,” a familiar voice replied.

“Two Italians, hot, add banana peppers,” I said. “Please go.”

There was a pause.

“It's you!” said the familiar voice.

I knew I was home.

“That's true,” I said. “See you soon.”

– Alisha Bouzaher

Weststraat 23

Dear Diary:

I was 22 and had just moved to Manhattan. I lived alone on 24th Street. Every day I walked along the north side of 23rd Street from Ninth Avenue to the Eighth Avenue subway station, where I took the train to work.

I soon noticed a handsome young man who regularly passed me as he walked in the opposite direction on 23rd Street.

Eventually we started smiling and nodding at each other as we walked by. This happened every weekday for months: passing, smiling and nodding. We never spoke, but I started to look forward to seeing him again.

Then I moved to 21st Street, and I switched to the south side of 23rd Street when I walked to the subway. I haven't seen the handsome young man for a while.

But one day he saw me and ran across the street. He asked for my phone number, but I was hesitant to give it to him. A few days later he ran across the street again.

“Are we just going to keep meeting like this but never talk?” he asked.

We agreed to meet at a coffee shop after work. When we met, I discovered that we shared many interests and that he had a number of talents.

He wore a large knitted hat and a six-foot scarf that he had knitted himself. He knew Japanese archery, learned flamenco guitar and had gone to school to study photography, which I loved. We were both interested in poetry and writing.

That's how our relationship started. We lived together, got married, had a child and divorced. Unfortunately he has now passed away. But our beautiful daughter is now 48.

– Patricia Barconey

Photo bomber

Dear Diary:

It was the winter of 1981 or 1982. My friend Maya and I were modeling for a friend who wanted to photograph us on the subway for a project she was working on.

We got into number 6 at Astor Place and headed into town. At 23rd Street, comedian Andy Kaufman boarded the train and sat on the other side of the car.

Apparently when he noticed my friend was taking pictures, he stood up, walked into the picture, sat back down and looked straight over the car. As the train approached the next stop, 28th Street, my friend took the photo.

The train stopped, the doors opened and Andy Kaufman stood up without a word and walked onto the platform.

– Lowell Downey

At the corner

Dear Diary:

When I reached the corner of 59th Street and First Avenue, a man and a woman were standing there talking. They disagreed on whether to cross the street.

The man argued that no cars were coming and the street was empty, so they should go.

That would be jaywalking, the woman replied in shock.

While she was talking, another man passed by.

“Here we just call it crossing the street,” he said.

– Karen Raffensperger

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Illustrations by Agnes Lee