so this is the new year
There is no one place to start, but there is only one place to go.
I get back, and the first place I go outside my apartment, the woman who runs the store knows I'm leaving. It's a small town. I make the news official tomorrow.
My hands are only shaking a little bit, and there's a voice in my ear telling me to relax. It's amazing how well that works, sometimes.
New York is a blur that I will hopefully remember to elaborate on later, because I always blur these trips, never writing them down. The bars, the brunches, the friends I didn't see enough of but will see again soon enough. Shiny floors and the smallest bathroom cabinet I have ever seen; pint-sized radiators and a long walk to the train; friends so close and an expensive trip to Ikea: These are only a few of the things that await. The list is long, and half of it isn't for sharing.
I stayed on Pacific time the entire week, I think, falling asleep at 3 and waking up at 10 or 11. Frankie the cat stole my earring, but Owl-x found it. My subway token necklace was replaced with something shiny and perfect that means, in so many ways: This is a new New York. This is starting over. Things are different now. They're so different, and it all feels right.
I'm going home, in more ways than one. It's a new place and an old place at once, and it's my favorite place. And this time, it's for keeps.
That's my new year. There is still so much to do, and I think some resolutions would be good for me. But first: change.
I get back, and the first place I go outside my apartment, the woman who runs the store knows I'm leaving. It's a small town. I make the news official tomorrow.
My hands are only shaking a little bit, and there's a voice in my ear telling me to relax. It's amazing how well that works, sometimes.
New York is a blur that I will hopefully remember to elaborate on later, because I always blur these trips, never writing them down. The bars, the brunches, the friends I didn't see enough of but will see again soon enough. Shiny floors and the smallest bathroom cabinet I have ever seen; pint-sized radiators and a long walk to the train; friends so close and an expensive trip to Ikea: These are only a few of the things that await. The list is long, and half of it isn't for sharing.
I stayed on Pacific time the entire week, I think, falling asleep at 3 and waking up at 10 or 11. Frankie the cat stole my earring, but Owl-x found it. My subway token necklace was replaced with something shiny and perfect that means, in so many ways: This is a new New York. This is starting over. Things are different now. They're so different, and it all feels right.
I'm going home, in more ways than one. It's a new place and an old place at once, and it's my favorite place. And this time, it's for keeps.
That's my new year. There is still so much to do, and I think some resolutions would be good for me. But first: change.