Travel, Hike, Eat. Repeat.: the staten island ferry

The last time I saw the Statue of Liberty up close, I must have only been three years old. Maybe 4? I have an old photo of my mom with her hair wild and thick and curly in the wind, my brother standing next to her, and me - lifted up or standing on something, with the Statue of Liberty in the background. On the outside, we look like a happy tourist little family. I see that picture as an adult, and I can see the shades of conflict and emotion and nuance in it. I know now that at the time that picture was taken, my mom had recently taken my brother and me out of Florida illegally and moved us to Georgia, to keep us safe. I know that she had just cut ties with the majority of her family and friends so that no one would know our address or how to contact us, were they ever to be questioned, or worse, threatened. What I don't know, and can't remember, and for some odd reason, have never asked my mom, is why we were in New York. Funny enough. I remember the airplane ride. At least, I think I do. It was my first time on a plane. My brother and I sat next to each other, and our mom wasn't with us. I think she must have been in New York already, and we were meeting her there. If I was about 3 or 4, my brother was 7 or 8. The nice stewardess brought us headphones, and I felt excitement at the whole journey. I like to think I was adventurous, even then. I've seen the picture my whole life, but it wasn't until last weekend in New York that it dawned on me that it was taken on the Staten Island Ferry.

Pam, Ellie, Ellie's boyfriend Andy, and I hopped on the subway in Little Italy and made a mad dash to make the 4:30 Staten Island Ferry (they run every half hour). The ferry is free and draws hundreds upon hundreds upon maybe thousands of people seemingly on every trip across the waterway. The ferry not only provides transportation for workers and residents of Staten Island, it also affords the best (free) views of the Statue of Liberty. We fought our way up two flights of stairs to stand on the top deck. I wanted to sneak onto the roof, and we figured with three sets of boobs, it shouldn't be a problem, but ultimately, and probably for the best, we kept our tops on.

I fought for a position right at the rail like a little kid would so I could ogle the view of the Manhattan skyline. When the Statue of Liberty came into view, Ellie and I held a pose for so long it became comical so Andy could get us and the Statue in the frame. When we finished taking photos, I turned to actually take in the view, and it stunned me. She was beautiful, our Lady of Liberty, with a clear blue sky above her and elegant ripples in the water beneath her feet. I was stunned, too, with the realization that this is where my family had been. I was standing right here when someone, a stranger probably, took that photo.

The Statue of Liberty grandly represents freedom the world over. But she's my own statue of freedom, too. My mom took us there, for whatever reason that I'm going to ask her next time we talk, and maybe she went for work or maybe in some way to be reminded that she, too, could be free and move on and build a new life for us? It struck me as monumental and beautiful and wondrous, that 24 years ago I was in the same place with the same view and now I can be there again because of the life she built for us. I'm being entirely too introspective and metaphorical and with the grand notions, but sometimes on a Friday, you just need to be full of gratitude. And big hair.