One week left of work. Two and a half weeks left in NYC. Four and a half weeks until I start at the farm.
Where has the time gone? I started formulating this adventure back in November and now it’s almost here. How can that be? I’m not ready!
Moving is such an ordeal. I should be an expert at it by now, but it overwhelms me ever time. There’s just so much to do and to think about. And no matter how much junk I got rid of in my last move, I always find I’ve unwittingly accumulated more than I’d ever intended. While sorting and organizing “stuff” is stressful, it’s not the worst part of moving, at least not for me. Moving is more than a physical relocation of possessions; it is a mental re-orientation.
I am still in denial about leaving Brooklyn. I’m excited about Wyebrook and am very much looking forward to this adventure, but I’m not entirely ready to say “goodbye” to the Big Apple. Living here has been a childhood dream come true. I first visited New York in 1994. It was Christmas time and we went to see Beauty and the Beast on Broadway. It was magical and I fell in love.
I have been here for two and a half years, but it still feels surreal at times. When work is stressful I head outside and find myself under the iconic Radio City marquis. Around the corner are the Rockefeller skating rink, Saks 5th Avenue, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and the MoMA. A ten minute walk finds me in Times Square or Central Park, depending on which direction I head. And that’s just Manhattan!
Brooklyn deserves its own post. Brooklyn is the first place I have happily called “home” in years. It is the first place I am genuinely sad to leave behind. While I loved Furman, it had a distinctly collegiate feel. I always knew it was temporary. I enjoyed it, but didn’t allow myself to get too attached. China was a great adventure, but like Furman I went into it with an end date in sight.
Brooklyn was different. I had a stable job, a great apartment, wonderful friends and no reason to leave. I got comfortable. Isn’t that always how life goes? As soon as you let your down your guard, your world is turned upside down! It isn’t necessarily a bad thing; just unexpected.
I’m learning that it is OK to be sad and excited at the same time. That mourning and celebration can go hand-in-hand. I love this city and leaving will be a kind of loss. Sacrifices of community, routine and familiarity must be made in the pursuit of adventure, but the excitement of the new doesn’t negate the relinquishment of comfort.
How does one properly say “goodbye” to a city? With people there is the promise of phone calls and emails, even if you know visits will be scarce. Friendships can be maintained in spite of the miles. But you can’t call a city. When I leave, that will be the end of our relationship. I guess that’s why I’m in denial about leaving. I don’t know where to start saying my goodbyes