So it took a whopping 17 days for me to return to New York City. Yeah, yeah. I’m weak. You can take the girl out of the city, but, well, dot dot dot.
I returned for a very important annual Birthday Tea event with my Goddaughter and ended up staying a few extra days for some work-related meetings and to hang out with BestGoodFriend Gregg who happened to be in town from Denver. So it’s legitimate. I worked hard to keep my weakness busily scheduled.
And it took a whopping 17 minutes to admit-to-self I made the right decision in moving.
I was fully braced and ready to be smacked with the city’s magnetism when I made the [gridlocked] grand entrance through the Holland Tunnel, eyes a’sparkle, gushing “Oh New York, I missed you! I belong here!” But. Nope. No such epiphany occurred.
It was downright refreshing to enjoy the city knowing I got to leave at the end. Friends from uptown, downtown and over town rallied. We hopped to bars, we consumed fantasmic food (new favorite thing = mussels), we made dirty martinis at 4pm, we jammed to bands, we had tater tots and jell-o shots and we walked and walked and walked. Essentially, New York served up the same ol’ New York. Nary a beat was skipped. I had not missed a thing.
My goal is to visit often enough to maintain the feeling that I never left. But I’m not sure that’s possible. Change is the city’s only constant and something I couldn’t even keep up with when I lived there. Now when I go back and utter things like – “Well THAT’s new! What happened to the bar that was there?!?” – I’ll feel like I did miss something, like I left the city no choice but to morph on without me. But I ‘spose if I really thought about it, I wouldn’t want to find it any other way.
Keep on keepin’ on, New York. I’ll try to catch up eventually.