I went to New York on Wednesday, in search of a new camera and lens, in search of an idea as to what kind of grandfather my daughter, soon to be a mother, wanted me to be.

I was partially successful. I got a new camera, the 5D Mark III, but could not get enough money from B & H Photo to get the portrait lens I wanted as well.  I was about $1,000 short. I have no complaints. B&H Photo is always honest and helpful with me, they are the only place I will ever go to buy cameras and lenses.

There was a time when I would have been disappointed to have gotten less than I wanted, but not any more. Sometimes I get as much pleasure from not buying something as I do from buying something.There is something satisfying about understanding how the world works and being honest.

As I told the man at the lens counter when he said it was a great lens,  I know, but I can’t pay for and I won’t put it on a credit card, so I’ll just have to wait for it. He nodded. I understand, he said. I wasn’t always able to say that.

I’ll save up for the lens and eventually get it, I can wait. And I love my new camera, this shot is one of the first photos I’ve taken with it, and I love the softness and feel of the image. Fate watching, Red and Maria communicating across the pond. I have the new camera and my monochrome, and that is good for now.

Then, on to my other reason for going to New York City.  Emma, who is about to become a mother.

It seems throughout my life I was always heading into New York City to scale some mountain. I worked at the New York Times, ran a magazine, lived in beautiful apartments.

I was often driven around in limos, I had lunch with Diane Sawyer at the Cafes Des Artistes, dinner with Dan Rather at Patrick’s Pub. I met with editors, sat in Random House conference rooms while beautiful young women (they were always women) told me how much they loved my books and writing. I knew they were mostly pretending, but I liked it anyway. I was dancing the dance. I lived in the Village when I was young and had wonderful sex with idealistic young women pouring into the city from everywhere.

Yesterday was different, I took the train from Albany and my past life was in shadow, in my own mind, but not any longer visible to most people. It doesn’t really matter any more, I have become who I want to be. And finally found love.

I had lunch with my daughter Emma at a chi-chi Thai restaurant off of Times Square. I asked her what kind of a grandfather she wanted me to be, I wanted to know. She said she wanted her daughter’s grandparents to be close to her.

What did that mean? I asked. She said, maybe visit three or four times a year, maybe invite my granddaughter up to the farm once in awhile. Emma said I was great with kids, which is a nice thing to hear from your daughter.  I’m not so sure she thinks I was great with her. It was a powerful thing, for me to see my kid about to be a mother, her belly was showing, she is trying to sort out what it will mean, what it will cost, how it will effect her life.

I was glad to hear her define her idea for me in this, I was struggling to figure it out. I told her I wanted to know and love her child, but I didn’t want it to be the centerpiece of my life, for my sake or hers or the child. I didn’t wish to interfere, she has her life, I have mine. This is a boundary, this kid thing, between one part of life and then another.

Emma and I have a good but complex relationship.  The pain from my divorce seems to be fading.

We are different and we live differently, but we are close and committed to one another. I told her not to listen to all of the dunderheads who tell her how exhausted she is about to become. I remember the joy of meeting her and living with her as a baby, I don’t remember if we were tired or not. I urged her to remember the joy and focus on it.

She is very serious about life, and very responsible. It was lovely, sitting and chatting with her, easy and loving and I was excited and happy for her. She is setting out on life’s greatest adventure.

Life in New York City and life in general is more complex when it was when Emma was born. This is all an exciting new chapter to me, and it meant a lot to see my daughter, perhaps for the last time, before she becomes a mother.

That is a big transition point for me, from one phase of life to another. It excites me, and also makes me a bit sad. I loved being a father, loved being involved in her life, being essential. Emma is moving deeply into her own life, as she should, an I am watching it from afar, as I must.

For me, the point is to not be essential to her, her husband is doing a good job with that. But it does feel like a loss, and I think I need to grieve it a bit. Emma’s expectations for me are the same as mine, and that is a good thing. I look forward to meeting this child of my blood, and loving her openly and fully, and, of course, undermining the anxious parents at every turn. Emma says she expects that as well.

Afterwards, I walked around Manhattan by myself for an hour until it was time for the next train. I soaked up the energy of the place, the diversity, the chaos and spirit, I breathed deeply of it and saved it until the next time. It was an important trip, and on the train ride back, I looked out at the beautiful Hudson and stared at the reflection at the water, and was eager to be enveloped by my new life, even as the memories of the other one began to blur again.

I was heading home, clutching my B&H Photo bag, grateful that Maria would be waiting for me at the train, I was pondering how I would get the lens I wanted sometime down the road and wondered about being a grandfather. All in all,  a beautiful day..