This is it. My last morning in my beautiful Brooklyn brownstone apartment. The sky is gray and the naked tree branches outside seem to be swaying silently outside of the bay window. I’ll miss that bay window the most I think. I’ve spent many mornings sipping coffee, reading or stretching and preparing myself for a day in the city. This place has been my oasis – a daily retreat from the noise, however magical. On the other end of the living room, my bedroom looks odd with a few of my things left over for the gal who’s taking my place. The blanket still on the bed, the rustic blue mirror still sits on the dresser, but the floor is mostly empty – all of my shoes either tossed or packed into my suitcase (how the hell I managed to get all of my stuff in there is still a miracle). There’s no traces of my pink gym bag or drying hand wraps anywhere. Only the few pieces of clothes I have laid out for myself to change into for my flight to Orlando. It’s oddly quiet. People are probably still tucked away in their homes for the holidays. Only an occasional passing truck can be heard just outside – a big difference from the usual honks and hollers of the center of Park Slope. I’ve been thinking about the things I’ll miss most. This apartment – this neighborhood – is at the top of that mental list. When (and if) I return to NYC, I hope to get this lucky again.
What else is there to say about NYC that hasn’t already been said? I’ve been reading a book of compiled essays called ‘Goodbye to All That: Writers on Loving and Leaving New York’ (thanks Tina!). Every which way NYC can be described, it’s in there and every other book and movie ever set in NYC. What else is there to say?
For me, NYC was more than just a city of dreams. It opened doors of opportunities for the rest of my life that I didn’t know I had. Everything that I once thought to be ‘just a dream’ is now a possibility. Of everything I’ve ever wanted to do, living and thriving in this city was one of those ‘only in my dreams’ scenarios. But I came here. I lived here. I thrived here.
And now, I leave here.
I’m not running away. I’m not leaving the city because it chewed me up and spit me out. I am still very much in love.
It’s more like breaking up with a love of your life. Not because it’s not working, but because there are other loves to be had. For now.
2 thoughts on “On NYC.”