Me (12-Year Old Version): I would fly to New York all by myself. I'd pack light but I'd somehow manage to fit four pairs of shoes into one small bag. I'd land and I'd take the subway into the City.
Me (12 Years Old): My first glance of the skyscrapers would be after emerging from the bowels of the city, into a blue afternoon with gleaming glass buildings all around. I'd crane my neck to see their summits.
Me (12 Years Old): Even though I'd never been there before, the city would open to me, full of smiles and love and friends new and old.
Me (12 Years Old): I'd visit Central Park.
Me (12 Years Old): Then I'd go to Random House. And they'd actually KNOW who I AM. They'd be expecting me.
Me (12 Years Old): I'd meet my editor. I'd meet the people that designed my books. I'd be a writer.
Me (12 Years Old): I'd go to the Museum of Modern Art and see amazing things.
Me (12 Years Old): I'd go out for dinner and drinks with my AMAZING agent. Later, we'd see a show. I'd drink Lambrusco with my agent, in honor of my grandmother.
Me (Grown Up): It was perfect.