“Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life. ”
I'm flying over England. I can see the fields below. Green fields in uneven blocks across the countryside. As I look down, my heart aches.
I remember that flight, when I first moved, and the woman sitting next to me pointed down and said, "look, there's your new home."
At that point I felt sick. Felt that, maybe, I'd made the wrong choice. I was anxious.
But now, now I look down and wonder if I made the wrong choice moving back to America. Maybe staying in New York was a mistake. Perhaps my heart would still be in tact, perhaps my career in a different place, my faith- still solid. Or, perhaps not.
That one time I got in an argument with a Russian Babushka in the middle of Moscow...
In New York City we are surrounded by strangers. Constantly. And I, usually successfully, try to avoid any unnecessary interactions with these throngs of humans. But every now and then avoidance is impossible and every now and then that's a good thing. Perhaps I should talk to more straangers and listen to the stories they have to tell.
I was going through old journals and blogs and came across this post from May 2013. Reading through it, I realized it is as potent to my life now - now four years into living in New York City - as it was in 2013 when I was only one month in. As a soft launch to my new blog, I wanted to begin with tales of a new year, new goals and a new 'me', but the below somehow feels more appropriate; to begin with a look back - only to realize that while so much has changed not too much has. I'm still that girl - whether 25 or 30 - trying to figure it out. And living here still sometimes doesn't feel real and it is sometimes full of so much joy and very often so much pain.
January 2015 feels as if the year itself has gone by in just these past 30ish days. So much life has happened, and yet here we still are - in January. In this month I've laughed, I've cried, I've stretched myself and I've lived in my comforts. I've fulfilled promises to myself and began seeking out new dreams
September is like a pressure release valve as the days darken and daily routines begin again.
Its a strange thing, to leave home. Its even stranger when the home is an adopted one.
Six months quickly became nine months; nine months soon became one year. And here I still am.
This was a dark winter. For both the seasoned and unseasoned New Yorker alike.
2014 is the Year of the Horse. Which apparently means the year in front of us will be one of elegance, power, energy, stability and perseverance.
The yearly reflection is upon us. Winter is no longer coming, it has arrived. And with these cold dark months comes the perfect time to review the year we are leaving behind.
As happens in America - or indeed anywhere, but particularly within these 50 States - a friend of a friend knows someone who does something or owns something which equals free fun for all of their acquaintances, acquaintances...
The merits of living in New York City is that life is often, or can potentially be, just like the movies. Not lovey dovey movies - in New York the reality is that most love never lasts. But like the YOLO movies, the ones with epic parties, beautiful city scenery, the chance meetings with strangers that change your life, the celebrity...
It is not enough to simply wander through a city and feel inspired by its lights, cafes or the dreams of others. Walking through a city is not experiencing it. It is a watered down taste of a place - a flavor, but a weak one. One must actually dive in, take time and space.
I've been out of the country for 5 years - my first Fourth of July back in the USA did not disappoint.
June took me back to London. The sensation of flying over the rolling green hills, through the grey clouds and drizzle and landing at London Heathrow was like a homecoming parade. Home.