Dear New York,
I’m halfway through my stay already. Time has flown by, but I think of you every day.
I’d considered coming back for a brief visit last week when the temps were low and the cottage was chilled, but I built a fire, bundled in layers, and kept Bogey the beach dog on my feet.
|Bogey the beach dog|
Even though I find the landscape relaxing and lovely here, it’s not inspiring like you are New York. Happenings are less, and therefore the stories to tell are fewer.
I miss many things about you, and now I realize that I could never take your way of life for granted—carefree, convenient, and spontaneous.
The trash shoot isn’t down the hall, and the raccoons invade my receptacle each night, leaving a major clean-up in the morning.
Zabar’s isn’t a ten-minute walk down Broadway, with the freshest cheese, breads, and smoked salmon. Mattituck is a ten-minute drive instead, and the prices are higher, believe it or not.
|Zabar’s in action|
Duane Reade isn’t on the corner, and neither is the fruit stand, but I drive five minutes down the road for my produce. Much of it’s local, which I love. Somehow it’s doesn’t have the same coolness as shopping at the Greenmarket in the city though. The drug store is five miles away.
People look normal, not eccentric or outlandish like they do living with you. I miss the outlandish folks and their shenanigans, like the crazy lady on the 4th floor who smokes too much and complains about the state of our country every time she gets in the elevator. She’s classic.
I miss hangout joints in my hood on the Upper West Side, but I miss a few faves downtown too. I’m eating in a lot here, and its pretty darn boring. How many grilled chicken breasts and organic hot dogs can I tolerate?
Mostly, I miss having the ability to walk out my building’s door, head in any direction and see something that I haven’t seen before. I miss the idea of an ordinary day that can become anything imaginable. I miss the feeling that I can accomplish whatever I set out to do.
|Fifth Avenue along Central Park|
I miss the familiar faces–my super, doormen, bartenders, local business owners, and of course friends. They’re all part of who you are.
I’ve come to realize if I didn’t know it already that you are really my home New York, and always have been.
|Manhattan by CJ Isherwood, via Flickr|