Running

Suna was running along the piers near 23rd street.  If she could, she would run every day.  It would be her ideal routine. Everything works together, she thought as she ran. She marveled at the way the Chelsea area had developed. During the years she had been there, it had changed from a somewhat rundown, seedy neighborhood of has beens to an up and coming chic neighborhood where people came to shop and play.

Finally it had become worthy of her wardrobe. Suna always paid careful attention to what she would choose to wear. People couldn't see your living quarters, but they see you everyday. It was important to be well groomed and current in her style. It wasn't easy. She could little afford expensive clothes. Her friend Hana had teased her "your expensive tastes don't match your pocketbook." That was true, but Suna had a keen eye and could ferret out bargains where least imagined. She always managed to look dazzling. These things just came to her.

Suna smiled, looking at the piers and out at the Hudson River. She knew that she was part of the change. As she became a New Yorker, Chelsea became more in vogue... the place to be. For some reason, it had been considered the center of the art world in New York with all of its galleries, and of course the Chelsea Hotel. Just about anybody who was anybody had lived there, writers, actors, artists, musicians... Marilyn Monroe's boyfriend Arthur Miller lived there and wrote something about "The Chelsea Affect."

Suna didn't need to read Arthur Miller to know about the Chelsea affect. She was caught up in the Chelsea affect without even knowing about it. Yes that's it! ... it was this history of Chelsea that made it the arts center. It was her fate to come here... she was drawn by its history and energy. But she was sad she didn't know more about it. Maybe if she had lived there earlier she could have been one of Andy Warhols Chelsea Girls.  It seemed true that these kind of things just came to her almost as if by magic.  She looked at it as being beyond her control. It was just Destiny.

At that moment it was her destiny be out of breath and to pause at the river's edge. She looked out at the Hudson River. It was luminous under the shimmering August sun. A breeze from the river cooled her as she scanned the horizon and looked across to New Jersey.

Suddenly something was vibrating, demanding her attention. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her smartphone. A text was on the screen, almost scintillatingly cheerful: "Hi! Having a good day? Want to meet?" It was from her California friend Elysa. Suna thought she had already left New York to return home.

If nothing else, the message proved to Suna that destiny was at work. She knew that no matter what, she now was a true New Yorker. And she lived in Chelsea.  None of this was planned, yet here she was a small town girl from a foreign land who was now the epitome of being a true New Yorker, whatever that was. She was just sorry she was too late for Andy Warhol.