What a gorgeous weekend it’s been. Matt and I walked over to Battery Park City this afternoon and strolled along the promenade overlooking the Hudson River. Deep, clear blue sky; hot, shirtless runners; calves everywhere. (As in legs, not baby cows.) On the way back, we bought some smoothies; mine was banana/mango.

It’s always so surprising when the first beautiful weekend of the spring arrives. It’s like it’s come from a different universe. Was it in this same lifetime that I last lived in a world like this?

The ancients were wrong about history being cyclical. History is linear. The world changes a little bit every day; we grow older and (perhaps) wiser; institutions rise and fall. But within that progression, we do live in cycles. The circadian rhythms of daily life; the circling around of the seasons; the repeating of the days of the week. We live on an upward spiral, always re-encountering the same things on our journey, but each time we’re a little different than we were the last time around, whether it’s a year later, a week or later, or even just the next day. I think this tension between progression and recurrence is why it’s hard for us to make sense of time. Was it really in this lifetime that I could walk outside in a short-sleeve shirt and drink a smoothie?

Yes, it was. It’s just that — whether I realize it or not — I’m a little different now than I was last time.