I have only been to one rooftop party in my life.
Which is strange because I work on a rooftop in the middle of Brooklyn, among a crop of vegetables and flowers and a sweeping view of the East River that continues to snatch my breath from me each time I see it. New York is filled with breathtaking rooftops just like this one, rooftops perfect for mingling and dancing and taking in the view which we New Yorkers otherwise let slip by in our daily trudge from subway to coffee shop to school or work and back again. The best part about being on a rooftop in New York is that just for a moment you’re allowed to let contentedness completely envelope you, a task difficult in a city that constantly urges you to strive for more. Rooftops elevate you, literally and figuratively.
Today, it rained while I was on the rooftop, and I have to admit that I almost enjoyed it. I enjoyed it in a way that made me nearly forget how cold I was or how wind-whipped my hair had suddenly become. So I pulled my hair up and continued teaching, because despite the rain I had a job to finish. But I snuck a glimpse at the East River just before I turned back to the pepper plants in front of me, and let me tell you, that skyline is even more beautiful framed by raindrops and fog.