found this little ditty in the archives of my phone today. My friend Paulina read it aloud as we sat in the sun getting our first sunburn of the season.
Right now I’m sitting in my living room, dwarfed by stacks of boxes big and small. To my right, the three foot Skier Santa from my Mom shoots me disapproving looks. For once, I don’t care. Not just a little bit. Because I’m saying goodbye. Santa can see it, he likely thinks I’m doing it for the wrong reasons. That’s fine. He’s still grumpy I lost his ski poles.
I’m saying goodbye to what has been my home for almost ten years. I’m saying goodbye to New York City. It doesn’t mean I’ll never be back, never say never right?. But for right now I’m allowing myself a moment or two to love and wallow, in my final hours in this dwelling that I’ve called my own for so long.
The pillows on the couch in front of me sag with exhaustion. I, too, am feeling the heat. Tired from a marathon last weekend, work, the move, upcoming holidays – I long for the moments I spent relaxing in this very room. How many perfect nights were spent here?
Reminiscing, I’m brought back to my first apartment in Manhattan. Not much fit into that studio I called a home, but I made it my own from the very couch I sit beside. That first year in New York was a lonely one. In school and working full time, I certainly wasn’t living it up in the big city as they say. A fact evidenced by my excitement for Thursday’s when the newest episode of Glee was on each week, it was like Christmas. How retro right? I can still taste the smell of my for tree candle that burned from the fall into winter, Glee episodes marking the passing weeks like a Broadway act in front of my now tired couch.
Living in NYC means something different to everyone. But I can assure you everyone who’s taken the plunge will tell you, it takes getting used to. A city so full of life and people ends up being lonelier than you can imagine. Throughout my tenure here I combatted this issue the only way I knew how – by creating a destination. A place my friends could convene – movie nights, Friendsgivings, sports, whatever. I was used to a big family, so I did my best to create one in a foreign place.
And It worked. Boyfriends came and went. As did jobs. But the party never died. We dubbed my apartment the men’s grill (lots of plaid, sports, and more plaid) and it became everyone’s home. Friends would pack into the living room and spill into the hall. Tonight, as I wrap each piece of art I’m transported back. Back to some of the happiest of times of my life, all with the backdrop of this fifth floor walk up on 82nd St. Over the past decade I’ve seen ups and downs, highs and lows and everything in between. Looking around, however, I know this place will only be remembered as a highlight. One of the best homes I’ve ever known, filled with laughter, my friends, lots of wine and food and maybe one or two mice here and there.
Even now as I write this I can’t believe I’m saying goodbye. As they say… all good things come to an end. The thought makes me cringe. I wish they didn’t. But, just as it gave me shelter when I needed it most, I can feel the men’s grill casting me out, sending me on my way. Maybe I became too reliant on the safety my home provided, either way in four days there will be little evidence left of my time here.
So now I’ll stand up. Dust off my jeans and pick up my mason jar of Pinot noir yo continue packing. The gigantic mirror to my left shows the reflection of someone tired yet familiar. I don’t want to leave, but change is inevitable.
I love this place. I love the memories I’ve made here. I’m choked up just thinking about them, but I won’t let the tears come. I’ve cried too many here. Yes, bad times I’ve weathered in this very room as well. So it’s time to find a new spot, somewhere to build a life, a love, somewhere new to call my own.
The Dog Hair Diaries 