Walking across the Brooklyn Bridge toward Manhattan at night is a singular experience that I recommend people take their first evening here. The city glitters in a circle around you while the bay laps at the edges of business and pleasure. There's nothing like it in the world. Tonight Malinda, Acole and I crossed together.

I've always been fascinated by bridges. To me, it's an example of humans seeing a problem and working to solve it. More than that, they're epic. Huge and suspended across even larger bodies of water, bridges combine engineering and elegance. I don't want to start sounding like a sixth grade book report; they just impress me. And so many times I forget and see them as something common.

In any case, the cables that hold this bridge up and together are more accessible than those of the Golden Gate Bridge. It's intimate, and more than once I wrapped my hand around one to feel the cold, solid twist against my palm. I climbed onto a bench so I could sit on the metal studded frame under a streetlamp while New York continued behind me, unaware and uncaring that I was there.

There are signs and dedications carved into stone but none of those touch me in the same way the sweep of metal and lights do.

I thought walking across it the second time would be different and it was...but it was no less meaningful. It affected me in the same way sleeping with a new loved lover touches me. Just because I've had the experience doesn't mean I've had that one. This time I'm a year older and many, many times happier. This time my hair was in braids and I missed Alicia and I put my arm around Malinda for photos. This time I'm older. This time I'm smarter.

I hope one day I come back and see the tide of the city, seemingly the same as always even when so much is different. I hope I'm even happier then. I hope I remember a coat.