Two years ago this weekend I came home, lock stock and two smokin' cats, to NYC.
One of the best decisions I ever made.
I'd grown up in the 'burbs of NJ, but my parents worked in Manhattan, and I went there often. It wasn't The Big Bad City to me, but a place of excitement and comfort. When I graduated from college with a job in publishing, I wanted badly to move there, too.
It... wasn't to be. Not for another twenty years, and some major life changes. And I was worried, at first, that the dream had been just that, or it was too late, or....
Last night I went to the local Greek place with sinboy and rosefox for late-night gyros. Walking back, I realized what date it was, and it struck me how very right it feels to be here, even at the two-year mark, which is normally when I begin to get wanderlust again. Oh, I still have the need to travel, to see different places, hear different voices, learn new things I couldn't find even here -- but I return happily, not dragging my feet or dreading the return.
I said once that I live in a state of constant chaos, and in that chaos I find my center. I like it that way -- it keeps my brain engaged, my creativity high. Change -- the slow constant evolution of your awareness -- is good. It's, for some of us, essential.
Unlike anywhere else I've ever lived, NYC understands, accepts, and even advocates a constant state of change: you can leave and come back, changed and yet the same, and there is no discomfort, no trying to fit in again, because it too will be a different city, and yet still very much the same.
For now, for the foreseeable future: I'm glad I'm home.
and wow, I'm not sure that was the post I meant to write when I started. But it's all true.
- on this date in history...