Just Because I'm Away Doesn't Mean I Don't Think About You

Sorry for the absence, I’ve been recovering from what feels like time travel. One day I had breakfast with Spiros in Berlin and the next thing I knew, I was sitting in a teeny tiny Brooklyn restaurant with The BFF regurgitating three months’ worth of gossip over dinner.

It was weird. Good, but weird. Bittersweet, maybe?

Since I left New York in February, I have been back two other times, but only for a handful of days. This trip I was there over a week, long enough to fall back into my old New York routine. Long enough for me to catch up while simultaneously start missing my friends even more. Long enough to be glad with my decision to leave.

While that city will always hold a special place in my heart, being there and packing in a week full of amazing dinners, fun lunches, a jaunt to Philly, a concert, and a wedding reminded me how little I was doing of that when I actually lived there.

I went to work, I went to the gym, and I cooked dinner. Rinse and repeat. For all the struggle and hassle of paying an arm, a leg, and a kidney to share a shoebox (although it was great at the time!), I knew my happiness doing it was unsustainable. Being back reminded me how perfect a week can be there, but not every week there was perfect. Does that make sense?

Still, though, falling back into everything made it hard to say goodbye. My sweet friend Nicki, who I hadn't seen since Spiros and I crashed her honeymoon in Santorini, said that up until now, she has just been in denial about me moving. "I've seen you every three months since then, it felt like we had just been busy." That is kind of what I told myself, to be honest. 

But after spending the last seven months bouncing around, I can see a permanent place on the horizon. This forced me to realize I officially have to give up my identity as a “New Yorker.” When I asked Spiros about this, he was like, “Duh.” (I recently taught him that fine word.) I guess my nomad status made me feel like I could keep hold of it a little longer, even though I was technically gone. (I will never have to give up my identity as a Texan, though, obv. Birth places stick with you forever.) 

All in all, it was a perfect week, one that allowed me to catch up with so many of the great friends I was lucky enough to make when I lived there. Seeing them also reminded me how nervous I am about starting over in California. Hopefully the same will happen there. 

(Or maybe they can all just relocate to the West Coast? Not the worst idea! Call me in February, suckers :)