For the past four years I've been in a tumultuous, on and off again relationship. Several times we've nearly parted ways. There was something missing. We argued. We screamed at one another about things like flowers, about snow, about coldness both literal and figurative. We never saw eye to eye and we each were only waiting for something better. And yet, for whatever reason, I've stuck it out. Lately my love affair, with this city, has become serious.
It isn't that I hate cities. Just the opposite really. Moving from the southside of Chicago to the south of Florida was nearly enough to kill this city girl at a young age. I love the feel of big cities, the energy and the anonymity. Yet somehow New York always seemed off. I wanted it to fit, I forced it to fit and still, it didn't. However, lately I've been thinking about what it will be like to no longer be here. To no longer walk along the Promenade or nearly deserted streets in Red Hook. It will be sad.
The past few days have been lovely. Trips to the Brooklyn flea, three newly acquired vintage dresses, chocolate cloud cookies from Baked, ice cream from the Brooklyn ice cream factory, and sticky mornings with Keats and Jon sleeping while I wait for the sun to come up. And I know these aren't only Brooklyn happenings. I know other places have these wonderful things but still, my heart is already beginning to ache at the thought that we will not always live here.
I can always tell how much I will get along with a person by the lottery game. If you won the lottery, which neighborhood would you live in? My answer is always Brooklyn Heights. Or maybe deep in the West Village. But I just don't know if I could leave Brooklyn so easily. We have history and air here and no matter what anyone says, more heart than Manhattan
