The cloud on the emotional horizon has passed for now and has been replaced by a real sky filled with snow. A little while ago the flakes were so big it looked as if someone had opened a heavenly pillow and snowy down was falling. Now, the snow has formed little mountains on cars that were parked overnight.

Yes, Anon and HB have decamped from their little paradise of Santa Tourista and arrived in New York. We were expecting snow at some point and a snowstorm arrived on schedule this AM. I’m thinking that I’ve got to get out in it knowing full well that after about 5 minutes the appendages will be screaming, “Get indoors! Indoors! Hot toddy! You idiot! What are you doing out here!”

But, it’s irresistible. So, I will succumb. The flowers in the pic are in Greeley Square. Took me a minute to figure out that they weren’t real. Yeah, I’m slow: golden poinsettias blooming in the middle of Greeley Square in the middle of NYC in the middle of winter. Duh. But the wonderful thing about them is that they are there. I mean who puts silk flowers out in the winter just so that there’s some colour to look at? The square was filled with beautiful fake flowers. The fake flowers were covered with real snow.

We were the only two people there that day (I mean what other idiots sit out in freezing weather sipping a ‘Chock full o’nuts’ cuppa?). The snow doesn’t last long in the city, so it was wonderful to sit amongst the flowers and snow all alone. The shoppers were out in force. Everyone was into their lists. Yet, it wasn’t the NYC experience of years past. Call me crazy, but people seem friendlier, kinder now. You say, “Merry Christmas,” and people beam and wish you a happy time back.

NYC never used to be like that. People used to rush to get where they were going. No eye contact. No smiles. No nothing. I can remember walking up Madison Avenue and thinking that there couldn’t be that many angry people in the world. Now, it’s different. It’s “excuse me,” “pardon me,” “have a great holiday.” They better be careful, they’re going to lose their rep.

As for Anon, I’m in my almost happy place. A few more days and a biopsy for the principessa will do the trick. The interesting thing I discovered yesterday is how people from disparate places can have the same story to tell. I met a woman from Jamaica whose story could have been mine. As we shared our histories, we could finish each chapter for the other.

Separated at birth? No, but the human story doesn’t have all that many different variations. It’s funny; we tend to think, in our egocentrics ways, that our story is unique. No one else could have lived our life tale. No one else could have shared our fate. But, it’s illusionary: there are probably only a few storylines. There may be only one when it comes down to it. Maybe that’s the lesson of the season. I don’t know. I’m not that deep. I just like the fake poinsettias in Greeley Square all covered with snow.

Hey, do your soul a favour and give something to Medecins san Frontieres. They work on the side of the angels.