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. Continue reading “On NYC.” →
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