I’ve long suspected that I’ll never be satisfied again.
There were some really good times in New York. I love reading old essays about clubbing with Kris when we first met, and looking at those pictures of us in the Hamptons, that first weekend by the pool, when we ‘came out’ to our friends as a couple.
I loved going down to Chinatown to graze on fifty cent roast pork buns and fresh fried dumplings five for a dollar. We used to follow that up with a cup of coffee and a sweet coconut roll at Fay Da bakery on Mott Street.
Every year on my birthday, Kris took me on a shopping spree in SoHo. No longer the frumpy school teacher, I felt young and hip when we went out into the warm spring nights.
Seven years in New York City seasoned me. I learned about culture and politics, and I ate food from around the globe. I drove a car in Brooklyn. My career went nuts- I am tougher, sharper, and more confident than I ever thought possible.
Though nothing has been better for me than that move to New York, I never shook my longing for home. If you’ve ever read my blog, you know what I’m talking about. Mostly I missed the nature, the active lifestyle, and the people.
Home nearly two months, I still can’t believe how good everything smells.
Life is easier here. Taking out the trash doesn’t involve any flights of stairs, and you don’t have to reserve a Zip car a week in advance if you want to go to Home Depot. The grocery stores don’t smell of mold and rotten meat, and the aisles are wide enough to drive a golf cart.
Predictably, I’m now homesick for New York City. When I say the word “Home”, sometimes my mind conjures pictures of Seattle or Bellingham. More often, though, it’s NYC that comes to mind. I feel like I left something important behind when we moved. Part of my body… or some significant feature of my identity.
My sister-in-law tells me that it’s her policy to “bloom where I’m planted.” She does an admirable job of making the best of her situation, wherever they move.
She made me think about what my own policy might be. I suppose I believe that there is a season for everything. For a time, we were young, falling in love in NYC. Now we’re parents. It’s time to raise kids in Seattle.
Someday, I look forward to taking my kids to SoHo to shop for their school clothes. NYC is still there for us, when it’s time to go there again.
Sometimes thinking about that helps the Otherhome Sickness.